


Tainted Perfection

by ItaliaTrifolium



Category: The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
Genre: Abusive Parents, Detailed Depictions of Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Abuse, F/M, M/M, Mental Instability, Multi, Not for a young audience I'm serious, Parental Abuse, Sociopathic characters, Toxic familial relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 85,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27314959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItaliaTrifolium/pseuds/ItaliaTrifolium
Summary: Saria Ahmed is Assef's younger sister. A golden-haired, blue-eyed, perfect porcelain doll of a child, she is her big brother in miniature. She strives to create the perfect world. Yet their struggles have caused the Ahmed siblings to lack empathy for all but one another. The world calls them "sociopaths". The world sees them as "monsters". But in Saria's eyes, the world is wrong.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: The following is a Kite Runner fanfiction that first got its conception in 2011, when I was a mere teenager, studying the book for my Leaving Certificate exams. I fell in love with this novel, its ups and downs, the characters, their story, and everything in between. And, with every piece of media that I love, I knew that I would need to write a fanfiction based on it. However, I didn't want to go down the route of writing about Amir and Hassan — while I adore the stories surrounding these two (Hassan Deserves Better, 2020), I wanted to explore an avenue that people didn't seem to have gone down. Hence, I came up with this character; Saria Ahmed, Assef's little sister, and to write a story from her first-person perspective.
> 
> This story has gone through some several changes. Due to this, I have made the choice to remake it in its entirety; so I am rewriting every chapter. For those who may have read it on other accounts of mine, please be aware that personal issues have caused me to restart my fanfiction life once more. I have my reservations and anxiety regarding the reposting of this story, but I have decided to go for it.
> 
> Please be aware that this story contains strong language, violence, and questionable actions/morals as displayed by the main character. The character of Saria has been greatly inspired by those such as Leena Klammer, from the movie Orphan, as well as Samara Morgan from The Ring, and there are more than likely elements of real life "killer children" in her personality and attributes, too, though of course, any and all connection to persons, fictional or otherwise, living or dead, is purely coincidental. And, of course, she derives a lot of her inner self from her big brother. Therefore, reader caution is advised before reading.
> 
> I must also note that I, as the author, in no way condone or agree with the thoughts and actions displayed by either Saria or Assef in this story. This is merely a work of fiction; and should be taken as such. This story means a lot to me, as it has taught me a lot about writing, and I hope that in writing it, I can make people think, as it is always my aim to challenge with my writing.
> 
> This is dedicated to all of the special, wonderful people in my life who have believed in me, and who have supported my writing career from the very beginning.
> 
> And with that said, thank you for taking the time to read this author's note, and please enjoy!

Sociopath.

It is a word for which there is no Farsi equivalent. The English definition of it is as follows: "a person with a personality disorder manifesting itself in extreme antisocial attitudes and behaviour". They are people who can lie, steal, cheat, and even commit murder, without the slightest hint of remorse. The media portrays them as insane monsters, seeking only to cause as much bloodshed as possible.

Psychologists look at them as test-subjects, and would have you believe that they know everything there is to know about what goes on in a sociopath's mind. What makes them tick, what makes them behave in the way that they do. Many of you, I would bet, probably believe that sociopaths are monsters. You probably see them as unfeeling, heartless demons who deserve to either be locked up or exterminated. Who could blame you for feeling this way? After all, it's what the media, and some of the lesser-educated experts, have told you.

But what if I told you that you're wrong? But, what if I told you that the 'experts' have it wrong? What if I told you that sociopaths, contrary to popular belief, are not evil at all? What if I told you they are, in fact, as human as you or I? What if I could tell you the truth about these people? The real truth, not the falsehoods and lies that the psychologists force down your throats? Now, you're probably wondering; how do I know all this? What makes me such an expert on sociopaths? You probably think that I too, am a psychologist, that I too have studied sociopathy, and this is how I know so much about them. Well, that's where you're wrong.

I know about sociopaths, you see, not because I study them, but because I am one.

In the winter of 1974, the body parts of twelve-year-old Zainab Qualmari were found scattered throughout the woods on the outskirts of Kabul. It was a crime that shocked the neighborhood. Some time later, a hiker stumbled across the body of a boy named Farsef Sajihdi, decomposing in a shallow grave. He had been beaten viciously with brass knuckles, but what disturbed the coroners the most was the fact that, according to their investigation, Farsef had still been alive when he was buried. His death, like Zainab's, struck fear into the hearts of adults and children alike. Now, you may be wondering, why am I telling you all this? What is the relevance between these crimes, and my story?

How would you react, I wonder, if I told you I was responsible, not only for Zainab's murder, but for Farsef's as well? Not only that, but what if I told you I'd committed those crimes before my thirteenth birthday? Most of you would be horrified. Most would not be able to believe that a child could be capable of such evil, sadistic acts. But I am. In a way, I suppose that I always have been.

There are those of you, I know, who will no longer wish to continue reading. The weak-minded of you will label me a monster and refuse to hear my story. That's fine. I will not change your opinions of me, nor do I want to. But for those of you willing to stay, I ask only that you read these words with an open mind. What you are about to read is completely, utterly true. I do not sugar-coat anything within these pages. I, Saria Ahmed, am willing to spill every detail of my life, for those of you who are brave enough to hear it.

This story is not written to entertain or shock you. It is not written to draw your sympathy or to make you care for me. Ultimately, it is not written for you at all. I write these words for one person, and one person only. The one who made me who I am today. The one who is my everything. The one for whom I would give up my life without a moment's hesitation.

Assef Ahmed. My older brother. My best friend. The other half of my twisted, broken soul. My hero, my idol, my inspiration, and the only person in this godforsaken world that could ever come close to truly having even the slightest hope of understanding me.

As I write this, I sit alone on the balcony of my parent's villa, overlooking the rocky beach of Rockingham, Western Australia. The sun is setting along the horizon, the waves breaking against the sand. I want for nothing in this life, money is of no object to me. I am one of the richest people in this foreign land. I am, for all intents and purposes, in paradise. This is an idyllic picture, and one that, if this were in better circumstances, I would find completely and utterly serene. But, as the wind bites at my face, blowing my hair back, I am reminded only of how much I have lost.

I am so far from Afghanistan, so far from my brother, so far from my dreams. Yet, it wasn't always this way. No, there was a time, long ago, when my life was different. A time in which I lived in relative comfort, in which my homeland was a relatively peaceful place, and not the war-torn hellhole it has become. A time where perfection seemed an attainable goal. But now that goal seems so far out of reach. Now the world has taken all but the last shred of hope from me.

Some would call my failings punishment for my past actions. I call them a drive to continue, to never give up until I have achieved my ultimate goal; a perfect life in a perfect world.

To say this is my story alone would be incredibly selfish of me, because it is _not_ just mine. It is my brother's too. The story that nobody else would dare to tell. The story that I, and I alone, must take on the duty of writing. This story exists, because I _need_ to tell it. For Assef. For the brother the world dared to rip me away from. I write these words for us, as an apology for leaving him, and as a way to let him know that, no matter what, I still love him with every fibre of my being. Every beat of my heart, every battle I fight here in this strange land, I do for him. I do with the hope that one day, we will be reunited.

Maybe, if he reads these words, he will understand just how much he means to me. One day, I know, one day, we will be together again. The Ahmed siblings — us against the universe — as it has always been.

This is our story, starting from one fateful day in 1974, all the way to when I left Kabul, and everything in between. And maybe, once you read it, you will see the humanity within us.

We are not the monsters.


	2. Our Tale Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story starts properly in this chapter, with Saria taking a trip for a family dinner, which does not run quite as smoothly as she would have liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read the prologue last chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. Please do note that I write long chapters, so you can expect this to be a regular thing as you read on. And again, I do not condone the actions or thoughts of these characters, I am merely getting into their heads as best I can.
> 
> I do not own The Kite Runner or any of its characters, plot points, quotes, etc. Those belong to Khaled Hosseini. I do, on the other hand, own any characters, plot points, etc, that are not found in the original novel.
> 
> Please enjoy!

I'll start, as all stories do, at the beginning. Now, not at the very beginning of my life — there is already enough tale to tell that does not encompass the formative years of my infancy — but at the beginning of this turbulent, downward spiral that I seem to find myself on. The year was 1974, a year in which my home, Kabul, Afghanistan, was not the terrible, war-torn hell hole that the rest of the world now sees it as. For my country, the end had not yet started, but it would soon. For me, the end started one faithful evening, on November 07th, one month prior to my twelfth birthday, on the day that I met the Kalahari family.

There I stood, half-naked in my bedroom, only dressed in a flimsy slip that barely covered my body, not even bothering to put stockings on my feet. With my hands resting on either side of my hips, I looked down at the utter carnage that I had just created. Dress after dress, skirt after skirt, blouse after blouse, they all lay strewn across the room. Some had been placed upon the bed, about as neat as I'd managed. That was earlier in the day, when the prospect of choosing an outfit did not fill me with the same level of ire as it did now. As time had gone on, however, my legendary frustration had gotten the better of me, which led to the clothes that were now tossed haphazardly across the room.

Time was not on my side, right now. I had but twenty minutes to choose what to wear, dress myself, and be downstairs before my family left for the dinner that they'd scheduled us to go to. 'Should really have picked your damn outfit long ago, Saria,' I chastised myself, rolling my eyes. 'You know how much of a struggle it is for you to find something to wear. And you also know what a fit your mother will pitch if your indecision makes us even a minute late to the Kalahari's house tonight.'

The Kalaharis were a family that lived a few streets down the road from us. Javid Kalahari was an airline pilot who worked with my father, and the two had gotten along quite well, both as business partners and as friends. In fact, their budding friendship was going so swimmingly, that Javid had invited not only my father, but also the entire family — including yours truly, and my older brother, to dine at their home. Another business venture, more likely, and one that, if I had my way, I would not be attending. But lo, I did not have my way.

Picking up a ruffled, floral gown, I held it to my chest, trying to gauge if I should wear it. I pulled the abomination from me, holding it at arms length. A mental image filled my mind; me, standing dressed in an outfit that would make me look about four-years-old, if that. The looks on the Kalahari's faces when they opened the door to see the rest of the Ahmeds looking... well... normal, only to then look down and see this golden-haired, porcelain doll little cherub dressed like a toddler. I couldn't do it. I couldn't put myself through that. Such humiliation was not something that I would willingly visit upon myself. Certainly not when I knew for a fact that the Kalahari's daughter, Adia, was in the same school-class as me. I got teased enough, thank you very much. I did not need to pour more gasoline upon the fire by giving some little girl I didn't even know ammunition with which to tease me when winter break ended.

"You," I said aloud to the floral abomination, "are going straight into the fucking bin, and damn what anyone has to say. Who in the world would want to wear this? Even an infant would roll its eyes skyward, would it not? Oh, son of a bitch!" With that, I threw the dress across the room. It landed, not making a sound, in a crumpled up heap, taking its place amongst the mountainous wreckage that I had just created. "Son of a bitch!" I grumbled again, stamping my bare foot against the carpet. "Son of a fucking bitch!"

The swear words, taught to me by my older brother, poured forth from my lips as easy as the ABC's. 'Son of a bitch' wasn't even the worst language that I could come up with. Yes, I know, it may seem odd to some of you that a child of eleven may use such foul, "adult" language, but I do, and always have done. Like I said, I've heard my brother swearing quite often when we were growing up, and despite not always knowing what his phrases meant, I guess I just picked up on his words and carried them forth into my own, everyday life. After all, were such statements not the perfect way to express the frustration that I currently felt?

If only I could dress like the other girls, that would make my life all that more easier. But no... my height put a stop to such things. At four-foot tall, I was, no _laaf_ , the shortest eleven-year-old in Kabul. My height and weight were that of the average eight-year-old girl. Though, to be frank, there were probably eight-year-olds who were taller than me. Due to this, it was increasingly difficult to find clothing that fit. Any outfit meant for my actual age would have dwarfed me, leaving my parents to splurge their money on cute little dresses that were meant for children far, far younger than I. Oh, of course, they had more than enough money to have clothing custom made for me, should they desire to. But they never did.

The thought had never crossed their minds, regardless of how much of a fool my clothes made me look. Keeping me in a child's clothing, would, after all, keep me as their "child" forever. Tiny, helpless, and easy to control. At least, that was how I figured they wished to perceive me as. That was not something that I could ask them. The idea of bringing such a thing up... a shudder ran through my body at the very thought. No, such feelings were best kept to oneself, were they not? All I could do now was figure out what the lesser evils of my dresses was.

As I waxed poetic over how best not to humiliate myself, I was jolted from these lamentations by the sound of knocking on my bedroom door. Shit! Which of my parents were come to check on me? My father, come to bark his orders for me to hurry up? Or my mother, come to shake her head in disdain and mutter a reprimand in her native German, when she saw the mess that I had caused. Deciding it would be best to just get on with it, I lifted my hands and spoke; "I... Just a minute, please. I... I know I'm running late but..."

A male voice, my favorite voice to ever exist, cut across my apologies. "It's me, sister. Mahmood and Tanya are downstairs. May I come in?" Oh, how relieved I felt! It was my brother. Thank God. A smile creased its way upon my lips, as I grabbed a robe from off a nearby coat-rack and wrapped it around myself, affording both he and I some level of dignity before I answered the door. My hands fumbled with the key, before I threw the door open and greeted my brother with a huge, delighted grin.

"Assef!" I exclaimed, striding forward to wrap my arms around his waist. Assef hugged me in return, and the two of us remained locked in an embrace that I never wanted to end. Eventually, though, Assef pulled away from me, and surveyed the carnage that I had made earlier. His eyes widened, and a chortle escaped his lips.

"Damn, _Liebchen,_ do you know the amount of damage you'd cause if you ever got your hands on an explosive?" His words gave me levity. Not only due to their light-hearted teasing, but also because of that one, special phrase. That one word that gave me true, unadulterated joy to hear from his lips. _Liebchen_. The nickname was but one of the testaments of the bond Assef and I shared, a bond that I held with no other human being on the planet. The German word for 'sweetheart', it was his special name for me, his and his alone.

With a shrug, I took my brother's hand and lead him to my bed, gesturing for him to sit down. He did so, and I was quick to take perch beside him, resting my head against his shoulder. "An actual explosive device would cause some mirth, if only for the violent carnage it'd bring," I mused. Assef's mouth twitched — our bonded humor always verged upon the dark and cruel. "Alas, all I seem to have done is created a mountain of silk and cotton. Still, I remain none-the-wiser as to tonight's outfit choice."

Assef pressed a kiss to the side of my head, ever so loving and supportive. "Try to at least dress somewhat... formally, little sister," he advised. It was then I took notice of the fact that he wore one of his best shirts, along with black trousers, now doubt ironed by our Hazara servant, Hamilra. Assef was lucky, he didn't need to spend hours trying to decide what to wear. Not like I did. "You know what our parents are like, and you know what this dinner means to them. Though why you and I are being forced to attend is beyond me, truly it is. Wouldn't you much rather stay home?"

"Stay home with you... versus... attend this godforsaken dinner. Is there even a need for you to ask which option I'd prefer?" I pulled away from the warmth of my brother's touch and leaned back, closing my eyes, hands behind my head. "The thought did cross my mind, you know, of refusing. Of telling them I had taken ill, and pleading for you to be permitted leave to care for me. But then..." I opened one eye and glanced lazily in Assef's direction. "You and I are, without a shadow of a doubt, keenly aware of the leather consequences that would no doubt befall me should I dare to pull off such trickery."

The mention of "leather" made Assef tense up. His eyes darkened, no doubt thinking of the many times our bastard father's leather belt had made its contact with our flesh. He clenched and unclenched his fists, closed his eyes, and breathed out a deep sigh. "This dinner won't be so bad, sister," he eventually murmured, trying to console me. "We'll get through it, I promise, and with any luck we won't ever have to see or speak to the Kalahari's again." Chance would be a fine thing, would it not? Still, I found myself smiling in response to Assef's words. My brother then reached into his trouser pocket, a mischievous grin on his face.

I watched, as he procured the item he was looking for, and held it front of me. Ah, yes. Stainless steel brass knuckles. Assef's favourite torture device. Young though I was, I had borne witness to his fearsome violence on more than one occasion. Seeing the way he expertly wielded those brass knuckles, as though they were but another extension of his own skin, I couldn't help but to admire him, each time. The other children of Kabul feared my brother and his brass knuckles. For his cruelty, his often savage intent. I, on the other hand, treasured and idolized him for it. I gazed at the weapon in my dearest brother's hand. "Assef?" The macabre excitement shone through, despite the fact that all I did was say his name.

Assef grinned. "What say you, _Liebchen_? Think I'd get away with bringing guests of my own for tonight's dinner?"

"Chance would be a fine thing," I responded, barely concealing my laugh. "I think Mahmood and Tanya would have a collective heart attack should you pull those out." The mental image of my twitchy, perfectionist mother, and my strict, loveless father, in stunned silence, as my brother and I wreaked havoc on the Kalahari family. Both of them would no doubt keel over, and that was only to guess at how our hosts would react. "But, Assef, the level of trouble you'd bring down for both of us if you did... Though, for the looks on their faces, how I wish you could bring them. Maybe then—"

Alas, I never got the chance to finish that sentence. As my mouth formed the next words, I was interrupted by the shrill, harpy-voice emanating from downstairs. "Assef, Saria! Where are you both? We have ten minutes before we leave for the Kalahari's. I want you both down here as soon as you can, do you understand me? Please do not bring us shame by being late." Oh, how her words made me rage with internal fury. And she wasn't done yet. "Let's go, chop chop!"

Rolling his eyes, Assef stood up, and crossed to the door. He opened it, leaned his head out, and shouted an answer to the Harpy Queen. "We'll be down in a moment, Mother," he said. His words were the epitome of politeness — the dutiful, obedient son. That was what anyone who didn't know him would have considered him to be. Only I, the one who knew him better than I knew my own mind, could tell how frustrated he was at being ordered around like some common servant. Well, that, and the fact that, as he spoke, he turned back to me and mouthed the words "stupid bitch", in reference to our mother.

Tanya must have been satisfied with his answer, for she merely responded once more with, "We'll see you downstairs promptly." I could hear her bustling around, and from the muffled voices of her and Mahmood, no doubt both of them were probably making a fuss over something or another. As they were want to do.

"You should hurry up and get yourself dressed, Sar," Assef said. "I'll see you downstairs, and then we'll get this over and done with, shall we?"

I nodded and he was quick to see himself out, closing the door behind him as he left me to my own devices. With no brother to distract me, the only thing that I could do now was to, finally, gather up my clothing and pick out a dress to wear. Ten minutes was all I had, and I needed to make quick work of my time. Throwing my robe to the floor, I settled my gaze upon a white dress, with rosebud patterns across it. One of the more formal articles of clothing that I owned, I knew it would appease Tanya's scrutinizing eye.

Ah, and on that note, you may have noticed that both Assef and I refer to our parents by their names — Mahmood and Tanya — rather than using any form of parental moniker. With the obvious exception of when we address them in person, this has been something that we did for as far back as I can recall, and I shall endeavor to continue to do so throughout these memoirs. Though Mahmood and Tanya may have conceived and birthed us, they utterly failed as parents, in every sense of the world. And I know, I know, I'm supposed to honor and respect my parents, but I see no point in honoring anyone who does not bestow the same to me.

I shan't bore you with the details of my early childhood just yet, but suffice it to say that parents as cold, distant and emotionally neglectful as mine were while I was growing up do not deserve any such love or respect. Thus from me, they shall receive not even the slightest morsel of it, except for when it is necessary for me to lie — which, for the most part, it often is. But alas, I shan't bore you with the sordid details of my tragic childhood, just yet. There is much to write about in just this entry alone, after all.

Once I had dressed, I threw the pile of clothing onto my bed. There was no need for me to clean it up, of course. It was Hamilra's job to wait upon us, as was the job of all Hazara people to wait upon their Pashtun masters. She would be spending the evening cleaning up, scrubbing and sweeping, and I was certain that she would take the initiative to clear up the mess in here. With this though in mind, I shut the door behind me and made my way downstairs.

Already, the rest of my family stood waiting for me at the front door. Before I could even descend the final step, Tanya grabbed my arm with her talons, and pulled me close. She grabbed my chin, tilting my head to the left and the right. Her bony fingers dug into my skin, making me wince. Honestly, it was so fucking embarrassing to be inspected like some toddler who wasn't capable of washing her own damn face.

But she had to make sure I looked perfect, after all. She had to be sure that not a hair was out of place, not an inch of dirt or stains upon her porcelain child. Whatever would the neighbors think if I were to have been even the tiniest bit amiss? Certainly, the sight of Saria Ahmed with one single golden hair out of place would send the whole of Afghanistan into a nationwide panic. I almost rolled my eyes at the thought. Tanya looked me up and down one more time, before standing back, and giving me the "Motherly Nod of Approval".

"You look beautiful, Saria." She smiled down at me, yet it did not match her eyes. I looked at my feet, muttering a soft, demure, " _Tashakor_ , Mama." Tanya placed a gentle hand upon my cheek, bringing me forth to a soft embrace. Unable to get away, I leaned in close, wrapping my arms around her. This was, of course, yet another manipulation tactic on the part of both this woman and myself. Both pretending to love one another — but both, mayhap, knowing that our actions were but a lie. Her embrace was a warning: _be obedient, be the perfect daughter, or you shall fall from my favor._

Once she'd had her fill of our embrace, Tanya stepped away and began to fix up her own outfit. It was only then that I got the chance to look at what she was wearing. What had the perfectionist decided to wear today? She was dressed to the nines as usual - flowing blue dress, hair pinned into a neat bun, her lips painted with the slightest hint of rogue. My father wore his best grey suit — part of me wondered how much of an argument went on for Tanya to have convinced him to put that on. My lips twitched ever-so-slightly.

"Mahmood," Tanya focused her attention on my father now, "Mahmood, do you have the flowers and wine, darling?" She glanced at the clock, tapping her foot against the hardwood floor. I stepped out of her way and moved so that I was next to Assef again. Tanya continued on, "Come and help me put them in the car. We need to get going. Assef, Saria, into the back seat, both of you." She paused, turning to face us once more. "I'll assume you've both brushed your teeth?"

 _Didn't realize I was supposed to,_ I thought, holding my tongue on that sarcastic response. I was saved from answering, and from Tanya noticing my eye-roll, by Assef. "Of course, Mother." He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and drew me in close to him. "Come along, sister." With that, he led me outside, and over to the car. It was silver in color — the make and model I am unsure of — and yet another piece of evidence as to how rich the Ahmed family was. It was also, rather humorously, often the shitting ground for tonnes of birds.

Assef opened the back door, and stepped back to allow me to get in. Smiling, I whispered a soft, genuine, "thank you," and clamored my way into the back seat, focusing on doing up my seat-belt as my brother got in beside me and did the same. He glanced behind him, and, upon noticing that Mahmood and Tanya were, as of yet, still in the house, turned back to address me. "So, Liebchen, I hear the Kalahari's have a daughter about your age. Ever seen or spoken to her?"

"Adia." The word fell like bile from my lips. "That's her name. She's a few months younger than me, I think. I've never had the misfortune to actually engage her in conversation, but I've heard and seen her in class all the time. Always wanting to help Mullah Fahsir Khan with this or that. Such a fucking kiss-ass, brother, I swear. You can bet she'll be just as bad tonight. Oh, you have no idea how happy I am that you'll be with me. At least I'll have one person with sense and sanity on my side."

Assef laughed; one of my favorite sounds. "You know I'd never leave you hanging, sister," he responded, taking my little hand in his. "Besides, I'd like to see the measure of this Adia girl for myself. Mahmood and Tanya will be pushing you to befriend her, and, well, as your big brother, it's my solemn duty to vet any new friends that you may make. Ensure they're worthy of you. Or... I suppose.. that they're the types who will be obedient to you."

 _Obedience._ It was something that Assef and I both strived for in any outside relationship. While we treated each other as equals, with a reverence that no other could hope to match, any friends, or acquaintances of ours were carefully scrutinized to ensure their unwavering loyalty. That was a more pressing point for my brother, who, at sixteen, had already made quite the name for himself among the streets of Kabul. The children in the Wazir-Akbhar-Khan district lived in terror of Assef, and the damage he and those brass knuckles of his could cause. Hence, he'd needed to choose his entourage carefully — eventually settling on two boys about his age, Wali and Kamal. Loyal as dogs, and so desperate for validation that they'd go along with whatever schemes my brother would cook up.

I was about to say something else, when the back door opened again. "Saria, darling, will you hold these for Papa?" Mahmood asked. Before I had the chance to answer, he shoved a bouquet of flowers and a large bottle of red wine onto my lap. I blinked, tilting my head to the side. Mahmood leaned in and patted me on the head, as though I were a fucking pet. "That's my girl." He looked at my brother and I, and his countenance became sterner. _Great. Lecture time._

"Assef, Saria, this dinner is of the utmost importance to your mother and I. We both expect you to be on your best behavior whilst at the Kalahari house. Show Javid and Faraya the respect that they, as your elders, deserve, and do not do anything that may bring shame upon this family. Your mother and I not be lenient towards any single misstep, from either one of you. This is far, far too important. Do you understand?"

Fixing him with the politest, most obedient smile that I could muster, I replied, "yes, Papa, I understand. We'll be on our best behavior, I promise you that. You won't have to worry one bit, isn't that right, big brother?" Beside me, I could tell that Assef was showing the same manipulative, polite smile that I was. He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Yes, Father, we understand what this dinner means to you. Trust us, you won't have to worry about a thing, I promise." All he wanted was to get Mahmood off of our back, and with good reason! Do you think we needed to be scolded and bossed around before the car had even reversed out of the driveway? Yeah, no, thought not! This was the last thing that we fucking needed! The absolute, last thing!

Mahmood nodded. By this time, Tanya had made her way out of the house, and, after locking up, walked briskly to the car. She got into the passenger seat, buckled herself in, and turned to face Assef and I. A piercing stare from her blue eyes, eyes that my brother and I both shared, having taken our half-German heritage from her. She gave Mahmood the "side-eye", no doubt silently asking him if he'd given us the lecture on how to behave tonight. Finally, after what seemed like ages, but was really only a split second or two, Mahmood got into the car, and began to reverse it down the drive.

As with all car rides with my family, this one was filled to the brim with tension. You would think that the treat of going to visit a family "friend" would be one that would have us laughing, smiling, joking together. But no. I knew Mahmood and Tanya were far, far too focused on the importance of this get-together. Assef and I were both, equally united, in our desire to be somewhere, anywhere else. Finally, Assef took the initiative to speak, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"How long will it take for us to get there, Father?" he asked, casually drumming a finger against the car's leather interior. "The Kalahari's live fairly close to us, don't they?"

Mahmood nodded. "Javid lives about four or five streets down from us, Assef," he said, turning a corner. I glanced out the window, noticing the streets as we passed. "They have a son that's about your age, don't they? I think his name is Masood. Is he in any of your school classes?" His attempts to make conversation were so totally, utterly pathetic. How sorry I felt for my poor, dear brother, having to engage with that.

Assef shrugged. "They have, I think. Pretty sure his name is Masood. But he's a few years younger than I am, so we're not in the same classes. I've never really spoken to him, if I'm honest."

"Well, perhaps you can get to know him a bit better tonight," Tanya mused, before turning her focus on me. Of course. Neither of our parents ever really wanted much to do with Assef. In retrospect, I think they may have been shamed by, or intimidated, by him. Which wasn't at all hard to see why. Assef could be frightening — were I anyone else, I too may have been frightened by him. But alas, he was my kindred spirit. Whatever love we did not show to the rest of the world, we bestowed with great compassion towards each other.

Tanya's voice was sugar-sweet as she addressed me. "Well, the Kalahari's daughter is your age, isn't she, Saria?"

I nodded, still staring out the window. "Yes, Mama. Well... she's about ten, but we are in the same class."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Tanya gushed, as if this were the best piece of news that she had ever heard in her life. She turned and reached for me, placing a hand on my knee, the only part of me she could reach, what with me holding the flowers and all. "Maybe you and little Adia could become friends, would you like that, darling? Your father and I are always saying that you need to make more friends."

 _I'd rather not,_ I thought, irate as I always was when Tanya patronized me. _I don't need friends. I'm more than content with only having my brother for company, and I'd appreciate if you'd just leave me the fuck alone and stop trying to force your own image of the perfect childhood onto me. Just leave me alone, for the love of all that is good and holy, just leave me the hell alone!_

I looked down, the image of gentle anxiety. Fumbling with the string that held together the flowers in my lap, I murmured a soft, "O-Oh, I don't know about that, Mama. Adia must have so many friends already, I'm not so sure that she'd want to be friends with me." This, of course, was but a way to get her to sympathize with me. In reality, the chance to even be offered my friendship was something that Adia was, I believed, far too unworthy for. I looked up, and met my mother's gaze. "But I do hope that she likes me, I really do."

"Who wouldn't like you, sweetheart? Who wouldn't want to be your friend?" Those words did not come from my brother, as you may think. Instead, they came from Mahmood, who, while he may have intended to come across as well-intentioned with his compliment, had no idea of the internal fury he had just imparted into his daughter's mind. Calling me 'sweetheart', hearing my Assef's precious nickname for me being besmirched by unworthy lips, it was enough to make my blood pressure skyrocket. How I yearned to scream my utter abhorrence for his disgusting actions, right in his face. Were it not for the fact that I would put myself in the height of trouble, I may have lost my temper then and there.

All I could do was continue to shyly nod, chewing on the inside of my lower lip. "I... I guess so." With those words, I intended to make it clear that I no longer wished to take part in this conversation. I was not in the right frame of mind to chat it up about my friends, making friends, or lack thereof. All I could do was hope that they would take the hint, and I'd be able to endure the rest of this car ride, and the ensuing dinner, without too much hassle or fuss.

Finally, after two more minutes or so, spent in terse silence, Mahmood pulled up into a driveway. "Well, here we are," he said, parking the car. He turned to face my brother and I. "Remember, best behavior," he ordered, for what was, I'm sure, the ten-thousandth time. Assef and I nodded, like obedient robots. Mahmood got out of the car, and went around the back to open my door — extending his hand to help me out. I gave him a demure smile, and stepped out, brushing a stray strand of hair away from my face. As my father leaned around me to close the door, and my brother got out of the car on his side, I glanced up at the house we would be dining in tonight.

It was a two-story home, with a red door. Large, of course, the Kalahari family were, of course, a well-off family here. The Ahmeds spending time with anyone who wasn't at least _some_ bit rich was out of the question. Still, as I craned my head to look up at the window, I was keenly aware that we were, no doubt, richer than they were. They didn't have a gated compound, for one thing. _Good_ , I thought to myself, lips curling in the slightest hint of a smirk, the apprehension of meeting young Adia slowly beginning to dissipate, _I already have one up on the little bitch._

Mahmood walked up to the door, with the rest of us following in tow. He knocked once, twice, three times, before standing back and waiting. A few moments passed, with utter, terse silence between us, before I noticed a shadow on the other side, fiddling with the lock. They were met by a second shadow. The first shadow, male, I believe, finally got the latch to work, and opened the door. There, standing before us, was a tall, dark-haired man, and a somewhat shorter, brunette woman. The man looked at my father, and gave a hearty laugh. This must have been Javid and Faraya.

"Salaam, Mahmood jan," Javid said. He had a booming voice, the kind that was deafening even in a normal volume. "So nice of you to come." He gestured to the woman stood beside him. "Allow me to introduce my wife, the lovely Faraya. You have her to thank for tonight's cooking."

 _Ah, Faraya. If I end up getting food poisoning tonight, then I know who to blame._ The corners of my lips twitched up, the most amusement that I could display at my internal snark. Javid took his attention from Mahmood, focusing it now on Tanya, Assef and I. "And I see you've brought the family with you. How lovely, we've always been wanting to meet them."

"Full house tonight, Javid jan," Mahmood replied, laughing and clapping Javid on the shoulder. He stood back, beckoning Assef and I to step forward. We did so, my brother reaching down to take my hand. Tanya cleared her throat, smile plastered to her face. Mahmood glanced at her. "You know my wife, Tanya, of course. And this..." He placed a hand on Assef's shoulder, as though showing him off to the world. "This is our son, Assef. Our eldest."

Javid reached out a hand for Assef to shake, which he did. "It's lovely to meet you, Assef jan."

"Likewise, Javid agha," Assef responded, "and you too, Faraya khanom." He'd used the polite form of address for adults, as we both knew our parents would have been expecting us to. It was, I knew, the very last thing he wanted to do, but what choice did we have? Assef placed hand on my shoulder, gently pushing me forward. Wanting to get my introduction out of the way. "And this, this is—"

But before he could get a word in edge-ways, Mahmood stepped up to the plate. He took my hand, pulled me forward, and placed both his hands on my shoulders as he faced me to Javid and Faraya. "This is our youngest, Saria. Our baby girl." Our baby girl?! Damn, was he trying to make my blood boil? The way he said it, you would have thought he was introducing a six-month-old infant. And from the look on Faraya's face, I almost expected the woman to start cooing and gushing over me in the same way that one would to a baby.

I bowed my knees, inclining my head slightly. My hair fell over my face. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Javid agha and Faraya khanom." My words were dripping in honeyed falsehood, the innocence of a child. "Thank you kindly for inviting my family and I to your home tonight." Behind me, Tanya made a noise of approval. Good. Things were starting off in smooth sailing. I could do this.

"Oh, it's so lovely to meet you too, Saria jan," Faraya gushed, while Javid stood back and permitted us access to their home. What did I tell you? Gushing over me already. She placed a hand on my back, cupping my cheek, as she looked down at me with fondness in her eyes. "You're in the same class as our little girl, aren't you?" Before I could even speak a word, she continued. "But... forgive me for saying this... you look a lot younger than she is." She addressed my parents, as if I couldn't speak for myself. "How old is she again, Mahmood, Tanya jan? Eight?"

 _Eight? You patronizing bitch, how dare you? I'll rip your throat out!_ I thought, fury burning its way up my throat, burning, aching, as I struggled not to let it out. To not let my rage boil over, as it was sometimes known to do. Yes, I know that I'm tiny for my age. Did they need to rub it in? And wouldn't Mahmood and Tanya have already told them how old I was? They certainly didn't need to ask the same question about Assef, did they? Were they trying to mock me? No, I would not stand for this.

As Tanya opened her mouth to speak on my behalf, I cut across her, with my most sugary voice. "I am eleven-years-old, Faraya khanom," I told her. By now, we'd all entered the house. Faraya's eyes widened, and she went to make a comment that would no doubt annoy the piss out of me, but we were saved from that happening, by the appearance of their daughter.

A ten-year-old girl with dark hair, both in lopsided pigtails, came bounding down the stairs. She was about a head taller than I was, for fuck sake! She skipped up to us, beaming. "Hi!" she chirped, "It's so lovely to meet you all, thank you so much for coming." They were words that I could tell her parents had told her to say. Surely, surely, no child could be that much of a kiss ass. Right? Fuck, I had only spent two seconds in the company of this girl, and already she was annoying me. How in the world was I meant to survive a full night of this?

She pushed past everyone else, and reached for me, taking my hands in hers. "You must be Saria," she said, almost bouncing on her heels, "I'm Adia. You and I are in class together. I see you all the time, but I've never gotten the chance to say hi. So, hi! It's really nice to meet you, finally!" Yeah, as if I could say the same for her. I glanced back at Assef, and we both shared a look of 'is she for real?'.

"Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes," said Faraya. She turned to address her daughter. "Adia, why don't you take Saria jan upstairs, so the two of you can play together in your room while you wait. Maybe a game with those marbles we bought you?" When Adia nodded, Faraya turned her focus to my brother. "Assef jan, why don't you go and join the men for a game of cards?"

"Ah, and speaking of men," Tanya cut in, "will your son be joining us for dinner tonight?"

A strange expression passed over Faraya's face. She cleared her throat, unable to answer for a nanosecond, before she spoke again. "Oh, uh... uhm... no. No, unfortunately. Masood isn't feeling too well tonight, so he's going to stay in his room. I'll save him a plate, though, if he's up for eating later. I'm sorry, really, he was looking forward to meeting you all, but..." She trailed off.

I wanted to ask what, exactly, was wrong with Masood. 'Sick' was not a good enough explanation in my eyes. Or maybe I just took pleasure in learning about the suffering of others. But before I could say a word, I was interrupted — or saved, perhaps; who knows what Mahmood and Tanya might have done if I were to speak such rude words? — by Adia. She took my hand and began to drag me up the stairs. "Come on, Saria. Let's go play!"

She lead me up the stairs, bounding two at at time. She continued to talk excitedly, as we made our way to her room. "You know, I'm really happy that you're here, Saria. I was so excited when my mommy told me you'd be coming to visit." Yeah, can't say I felt the same, now, could I? "I see you in school all the time, like I said. And I... I've always been meaning to ask you to come and play with me during break times but... uh... I guess I never got the chance too. I'm glad we can play now, though."

As we reached her room, Adia pushed open the door and stepped back, politely allowing me entrance. How very polite of her. I walked in, making sure to place my hand on the door to hold it open for my new "friend". Her room was typical for what you'd expect for a ten-year-old — toys, clothes, and dolls strewn about, the bed unmade, sheets of paper from what I assumed was schoolwork lying haphazardly across a small writing desk. I turned my nose up at it. Did she even bother to clean this pigsty? Surely, having known that she would have guests round, she could have made even the slightest, the tiniest bit of effort to clean up after herself? I for sure would not have been permitted to get away with leaving my room in such a state, had our situations been reversed. Not that I would have wanted to, anyway.

"You can, uh, sit down, if you want." Adia gestured to the bed, which I gingerly sat upon. Adia rocked on her heels, giving me a toothy grin. "Do you wanna see my toys?" she asked. "My parents bought me new marbles, maybe we can play with them. Or... uh... do you like dolls? I bought a new outfit for my doll and I've never put it on her yet. Wanna do it together?"

"Sounds like fun!" I beamed, smile sticking to my face like glue. Of course she thought I wanted to play with her doll. I looked just like one myself, after all. The living, breathing embodiment of a dream. Adia dropped to her knees and began to fumble around under the bed. A look of concentration on her face. As she searched, I found myself on the receiving end of yet another incessant question. This one, however, was one that I was more than willing to answer, and to be utterly truthful about.

Adia glanced up at me. "Saria, uh... the boy with you tonight, uh, Assef, was it? Is he your brother?"

"Yes."

By now, Adia had found her doll, as well as the corresponding outfit for it, and placed it on the bed, which she sat upon alongside me. I picked the toy up, turning it over and over in my hands. It was certainly pretty, with dark pigtails done in much the same way Adia's own hair was. She'd obviously worked hard on making her new doll into her little mini-me, of that there was no doubt. Adia glanced from the doll, to me. "Are you close?"

I arched a brow. "Huh?"

"Are you close to your brother?"

"Yes. He means more to me than anyone else in the world. He's my best friend." No truer words had ever been spoken.

A strange look passed over Adia's face for a moment. She thumbed the ends of her doll's pigtails. "Assef's in the same school as Masood, actually." Pretty much a given, really, considering most children in the Wazir-Akbhar-Khan district ended up attending the same schools. Those of us who were Pashtun, at least. The Hazara people weren't permitted to learn in the same way that we were. "But my brother's a few grades behind yours, so I don't think they know each other."

From the way that she said those words, and the look she was giving me, part of me had to wonder if Adia and her brother were aware of the reputation that my Assef had garnered for himself. It wasn't too much of a stretch to guess that, perhaps, Masood had seen someone be on the other end of Assef's brass knuckles. And if he had, then would he not have forewarned his sister about it? Part of me wondered if her shyness towards me in class had anything to do with fearing my brother — and, on that note, if her eagerness to be so kind to me right now was because she was so anxious about being in the same house as him.

Speaking of Masood, I decided to reciprocate her question in kind. And to see if I couldn't get some answers on what none of the grown ups were telling us. "Uh, are you and your brother close? I... I know your mother said he's sick... which is too bad, cause I was looking forward to meeting him."

Adia cast her eyes downwards. She focused solely on the doll, not even looking me in the eye as she spoke. "Yeah, we get along really well. But, uh... Masood caught the flu about two days ago, and, so, he won't be able to come for dinner with us. I'm sorry, I know he was looking forward to tonight. We don't have guests over that often so it hurts him to be missing out. But mommy and daddy say that it's best for him to sit this one out."

 _Yeah,_ I thought, that might be the wisest decision. _I really don't want either myself or Assef catching whatever disgusting germs your brother has._

The conversation shifted back to its happier tone after that. Adia continued to drone on and on, about school, about her doll, about how she really wanted us to be friends. She kept on and on about how she wanted me to come visit more often. I didn't respond in kind. Simply nodded along, keeping the smile, but not behaving in an overly friendly manor towards the girl. Couldn't have her think that there was truly any chance of us becoming friends, could I?

Luckily, I was saved from any further discussion with this bubbly child by Faraya calling for us up the stairs. "Adia, Saria, dinner is ready. Please wash up and come downstairs."

Adia was on her feet in an instant. "We'll be right down, Mommy!" She began skipping her way to the door, then turned back to face me. "The bathroom is down the hall and to the left, so you can wash up before we eat." With that, she was gone, and I was left to follow after her, and to wonder, in the back of my mind, what this upcoming dinner would bring.

Once we had washed up, Adia and I walked down the stairs, and into the dining room. I took note of how spick-and-span everything was. The tablecloth, the plates, the cutlery. Everything was sparkling clean. The sheer amount of effort that must have gone into making this dinner look utterly perfect. Javid and Faraya must have really wanted to impress us. Well, to impress my parents, should I say?

"Please, sit down," Faraya said, gesturing to the empty places around the table. I glanced at Assef, and the two of us made to go and sit beside on another, but Faraya, the dumb bitch, put a stop to that before we even had the chance to move. "Saria, would you sit next to Adia, please?"

Oh, how manipulative! How very cruel of her, to not even give me the choice in where I was going to sit. And what could I do about it, really? Surely, if I were to voice my concerns, then I would be in for it back home. To speak against an adult would be rude, and, well, rudeness was the one thing that Mahmood and Tanya would not tolerate from me. I flashed my most charming grin. "Of course, Faraya khanom." With that said, and a sympathetic glance passed between my Assef and I, I took my place next to Adia, the younger girl clearly enamored by sitting next to who she believed would be her future "best friend".

Other than my frustration at the seating arrangements, dinner really went off without a hitch. We chatted, we laughed, we ate some delicious food. Most of the conversation took place between the adults, anyway, leaving me to simply eat in peace, only chiming in with a sweet remark here and there, and laughing along in all the right places. The Kalahari family were truly starting to warm up to me, but that was no big surprise. I'm a very, very likable child, when I want to be. Now, this may be where you think I leave this piece of writing. If this story were to have a happy ending, then it may as well have a happy beginning.

But alas, my story has no such thing. And therefore, I must now tell you of the moment that everything came crashing down. Literally.

Dinner was winding down, everyone had had their fill. Pushing his chair back, Javid stood. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but I could certainly go for some fresh air after all that food. Why don't we head out to the garden." He grinned at my father. "We can chat some more about that business venture of ours while our little girls have some fun playing outside."

"Sounds like a good idea, Javid jan," Mahmood responded. To him, it may have, but I certainly had no interest in spending even one more minute with these people. Still, I told myself that this wouldn't take long. An extra hour or half-an-hour in the company of these people certainly wasn't going to kill me, and in any case, I needed to keep up appearance. And so it was that we all began trekking our way to the garden. It was just as I reached the back door, that it happened.

I was just about to reach the door, when I stumbled. There was a slight dent in the flooring, and I, not being aware of this, tripped and staggered forward. Assef reached out a hand to catch my arm, but he was too late, and my hip bumped into a small table. As it did so, the table wobbled, and down came an expensive vase that had been resting upon it. I hurried to catch it, but was unable to, and the vase hit the ground, smashing into a million tiny pieces.

"O-Oh!" I gasped, taking a step back. I covered my mouth with my hands. "I... I'm so sorry!"

Faraya stared down at the vase, her breathing ragged. She took one step, then two steps, forward, almost brushing me to the side as she dropped down to her knees. "I... I... I..." She whispered, picking up the broken pieces and letting out a broken cry. I just stood there, numb, staring down at her. What did I say, what did I do? Why in the hell was she reacting like I had just stabbed her in the heart?

"I'm sorry," I whispered again, "it was an accident, I didn't mean to."

Walking towards her mother, Adia knelt down beside her, and wrapped her tiny arms around Faraya's shoulder. She rested her head against her mother's rubbing her back. "It's okay, Mommy, please don't cry."

Faraya kissed her daughter's head, and turned to me. Her glare was almost frightening. "That... that was a gift from my father," she choked out through rapidly falling tears. "He... he made that himself, it's one of a kind. It... he passed away last year." She clutched more of the pieces to her chest. "This can't be replaced."

Oh, so that was why she was so upset. I must admit, I felt nothing for Faraya. Perhaps I should have been wracked with guilt over my mistake, but I just couldn't bring myself to care. But then I caught sight of the menacing glare that Mahmood was giving me, and a cold shiver ran up my spine. I instantly dashed over to my brother, hiding behind him, as if hoping for his protection. Assef wrapped his arm around my shoulder, cuddling me in close.

Tanya was incessant, apologizing over and over, wringing her hands. Javid hadn't said a word, but I could feel his gaze on me. I kept clinging to Assef, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow me whole. Why in the world did I have to stumble like that? Now, I knew, I would surely be in for the lecture of a lifetime. Mahmood took charge. "I think it would be best if we went home now. I am so, so sorry for this. I really am. I can't express my shame enough. Faraya jan, please accept my most deepest apologies for my daughter's clumsy behavior."

Faraya didn't say a word. Tanya pulled me away from Assef, talons burning against my flesh. "Let's get going, young lady," she said, and began frogmarching me towards the door. She turned to face my brother, and her countenance became softer, yet remained harsh. "Son, come along, please. We need to go home."

Saying nothing, Assef followed along behind my parents and I as we walked, or rather, as I was half-dragged, to car. We drove home, the entire ride being filled with a tense silence. As I said, I knew that I was in for a stern talking to. But then... I figured that I could just cry, and say I was sorry, and everything would be fine once more. Oh, how wrong I was!

The moment we got back home, Mahmood ordered me up the stairs. "Into your room, young lady, right now!" he barked, pointing up the stairs. I trudged up obediently, head hung, the picture of remorse. Within moments, the entire family had congregated within my room — thankfully cleaned from its previous mess by Hamilra. Mahmood took off his belt. "Prepare yourself, daughter."

I gaped at him, eyes wide in horror. No, surely not! Was he expecting to... to whip me... for this mistake? For this simple accident. No, no, this wasn't right. I staggered back, shaking my head, in terror. "Papa... please..."

Assef jumped in to defend me. "Father, no, what are you doing? It was an accident, you saw with your own eyes. She didn't mean to do it."

But Mahmood remained adamant, gesturing with one finger in my brother's face. "An accident? Assef, Saria's foolishness could have cost me a business venture that I've been working on for months. All because of her STUPIDITY! And she has brought shame upon us, which I plan to deal with in the proper manner. Now, you can either stay quiet and we will get this unpleasant business over and done with, or you can keep running your mouth, young man, and just see how much worse that makes things for your sister. What's it to be, my son?"

His words were a thinly veiled threat. Should Assef continue to speak out in my defense, then surely, Mahmood and Tanya would find a way to punish me for that, too. They may not have been able to do too much with him there, but he couldn't be expected to keep me by his side forever, and they were crafty. They would find a way. With this in mind, my brother gingerly sat on my bed, shaking his head apologetically at me.

"I won't ask you again, Saria Adelah," Mahmood barked. "Get your dress up, and lean over the bed so you can take your due punishment." Ah, and there it was. The middle name. The realization that I was truly, truly in for it now. I could say nothing in my own defense. With shaking hands, I leaned down over the bed. Tanya instantly walked around behind me, lifting my skirt and tucking it into the waist band of my panties. Assef took my hands in his and held them, the only real comfort that he could offer to me in this moment.

Mahmood stepped behind me, and raised the belt. It whistled down. _Smack_! I shrieked as it made contact with my flesh. Each hit felt like a sting from a burning hornets nest. All I could do was sob, and sob. Clutching my brother's hands like he was my lifeline. My feet drummed against the carpet, and I struggled so much to keep it together. I wouldn't beg, I would not give him the satisfaction of pleading for it to stop. But oh, how difficult it was to keep my composure to such a degree. Mahmood was really laying into me, whipping me until all I could think of was the awful pain my poor, defenseless body was forced to endure.

He must have given me ten, fifteen lashes. I had no clue, but he could use that belt so effectively that it would seem like a hundred thousand. My hatred for my parents burned ever more fiercely with each lash I received. How dare they? How dare Mahmood beat me for a mistake, and how dare Tanya just stand there and do nothing? Did she feel nothing? Had she no compassion for her only daughter's pain?

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, my punishment was over. Mahmood stood back, looping his belt back into his trousers. He looked down at me, menacingly. "Sit up." As I did so, he continued his lecture. "That had better be a lesson to you, Saria. Your mother and I will not tolerate any form of insolence from you. Now, you will be writing an apology letter to the Kalahari family, where you will express your deepest regret. I expect it to be done in your best penmanship, and if I find even the slightest flaw, you and I will be continuing the discussion we just had." He tapped his belt. "Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yes, Papa. I... I understand. I won't let you down again, I promise."

Tanya, eventually, took notice of the tears on my face. She knelt down beside me. "It's okay now, my baby, your punishment is over. You took it so well, so well, like the good girl you are. Come and give Mommy a hug." She placed a hand on my shoulder, but I flinched away from her. There was only one person in that room that I wanted, and I made my needs abundantly clear.

"A... Assef..." I whimpered, holding my arms out. Assef gingerly lifted me into his arms, cradling me on his lap as he whispered soft, soothing words into my ear. Mahmood and Tanya exchanged a glance, then left, perhaps deciding it best to not broach the subject any further. Assef continued to hold me close, rocking me and trying to stop my sobs.

"It's okay, _Liebchen_ ," he whispered in my ear, "it's okay now. You're fine, it's all over. They've gone, they won't hurt you again. I promise. Just... just calm down now, alright? Deep breaths, that's it, Saria. In and out." Slowly, as I began to follow his mantra, my breathing went back to normal.

I pulled away from my brother and looked up at him. "Will you... will you stay? Please? At least... I don't think I can fall asleep without you tonight."

He nodded. "Of course, sister. Go ahead and get your nightgown on, and I'll be here when you get back."

I made my way to the bathroom to change, which was a bit of a difficulty, given the pain that still burned my rear end. Once I was done, I walked back to my brother and climbed into bed. Assef sat beside me, wrapping an arm around me. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You know, sister, that Adia girl should done more to help you tonight. That entire family have made an enemy of us, and I promise, if you ever feel the need to make payment against them, then I'll help you. I promise, you will have whatever retribution you seek against them."

"Alright, Assef. I love you," I muttered drowsily. Then, I looked up at him and whispered, "from the moon to all the stars."

"I love you from the moon to the end of the universe."

"I love you more," I whispered.

"Not possible,'' Assef chuckled, and kissed the top of my head. Childish for us to have this little ritual, I know, but my brother just brought out that side of me. And, I had to admit, I kind of liked it. It gave me the security I so desperately needed right then.

As I drifted to sleep in my brother's warm, comforting arms, I indulged myself in the knowledge, that I would have, as he promised, the retribution that was due to me. Those who had dared to visit this pain upon me would pay for their transgressions, and that, I knew, would lead me to some very sweet dreams indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to all who have read thus far! The next chapter should be along soon and will deal with more of the fallout from this one, and start sowing the seeds for Saria's future relationship with Adia. I hope to have it written within two to three weeks, fingers crossed. Wishing you all the very best!


	3. The Seeds of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Saria found herself the subject of harsh punishment after an accident that caused some trouble in the home of a family her parents were trying desperately to impress. Now, a few days have passed, and we find that tensions are still high for the Ahmeds...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this so far. I really appreciate those who take the time to look at my story. Again, please note that I do not condone Saria's thoughts, behaviors, or actions, this is simply a piece of fiction.
> 
> I do not own the characters, plots, events and place names from The Kite Runner. With that said, I do own any such OCs and plot points/events that do not take place within the original novel.
> 
> With that said, please enjoy the next chapter!
> 
> Thank you again.

Tanya snatched my plate from me, giving me her trademark glare as she did so. There was still some half-eaten toast, with my bite marks upon it, resting upon the plate. She rolled her eyes — why, I had no idea, it was her own fault I didn't get the chance to finish eating — and walked over to the bin. Bending down to open it, she threw the food in there, before taking the plate to the sink and tossing it in there, with such force it almost cracked. I raised my hands in protest, not wanting to let this injustice go without saying a word in my own defense.

"I wasn't finished," I said. They were words of protest, yes, but measured with polite obedience. Though I wanted to shout how unfair she was being, how utterly disrespectful it was for her to take food from me, I knew that I would need to hold my tongue to some degree. In Tanya's eyes, there was a thin, thin line between rudeness and speaking my mind. Due to the trouble I had gotten into last week, and the disdain both of my parent still held for me, I knew I would have to be extra careful with how I went about things. Especially when it came to speaking up for myself.

But, judging by the glare Mahmood was now giving me, it seemed that I had already spoken out of turn. He walked around to the kitchen table where I sat, bent down, and placed a hand upon my shoulder. Taking hold of my chin, he turned me to face him and made me look in his eyes. There was a stern, fierce fire burning in his gaze. "Watch your tongue, Saria Adelah," he warned, "your mother deserves your respect and obedience, and I will not tolerate you speaking to her with any less than the humility she expects from you."

Ah, so apparently I wasn't allowed to speak up for myself? Even in the smallest of ways? I had to kowtow to my parents wishes, shut up and allow them to speak to or treat me in any way that they wished? How was this in any way fair? Why, just because they were the adults and I were the child? Just because I had done something, accidentally, mind you, that had upset some people my father was so desperate to impress? This was, apparently, how fairness and justice were meted out by the Ahmed family. Still, I knew that I would need to toe the line, in order to prevent another meeting with Mahmood's belt.

I cast my gaze downwards, the image of demure, apologetic innocence. "I understand, agha. Forgive me, I did not mean to speak out of turn." I glanced at my mother, giving her my sorriest look. "I apologize, khanom. Truly." I referred to my parents as "sir" and "ma'am", in the way that I was supposed to do when I was in disgrace. Being in trouble, even the tiniest bit of it, meant that I had to behave almost like a servant in my own home. Unlike what you may think, unlike how I know it is for other families, forgiveness was not granted simply because I'd been punished with the belt. No, for me, forgiveness would be earned through general debasement of myself and a loss of dignity.

Still, Mahmood and Tanya seemed to be receptive of my apology. Mahmood released his grip on my chin, and stepped away. Tanya, who had been glaring at me the entire time, gave me a curt nod, unfolding her arms, her countenance becoming a little softer. This was, I knew, the Tanya Ahmed way of saying that she forgave me for the awful crime of daring to speak up for myself against her own unfair treatment. All the same, if apologizing would diffuse the tension, then what choice did I have?

Everything had been so tense since last week. I'd have to been on my best behavior at every moment of every day. Even dressing in my most formal clothes; today's outfit of choice was a red pinafore, with my hair brushed until it shone and tied into two plaits with ribbons on the end. The utter epitome of the perfect child. I had to be extra perfect, and, considering I'd just incurred my parent's wrath, no matter how small, I'd have to really act as good as gold today. And, given the next words that Mahmood spoke, I knew I'd have my work cut out for me.

He stood to his fullest height, and looked down at me with the sternest glare he could muster. "Now, Saria, your mother and I are going out for the day. We will be back this evening, and then, the Kalahari family are coming to visit." Oh. My eyes flickered with surprise at that announcement. Mahmood took notice of this. "Yes. Despite your disgraceful behavior last week, Javid and Faraya have graciously agreed to bring their family to our home tonight. When they arrive, you will present yourself to them and read your apology letter in front of them, and us, your family."

Ah, yes, that apology letter. I'd gotten right the work on that the day after the 'incident', not wanting to waste even the slightest second. Procrastination was not a word in my vocabulary, and besides, if I were to have delayed, then this would only serve to give Mahmood and Tanya ammunition with which to punish me further. Said letter had taken upwards of four or so days to write, and I'd gone through about two redrafts to ensure it was absolutely perfect before presenting it to Mahmood.

"You should be thankful that I approved of your apology, Saria Adelah," he said. "And I don't think it needs to be said that I expect you to be on your absolute best behavior. You will treat the Kalahari family with the respect that they deserve, and you will be humble and contrite in your apology. If you put one foot out of line, if you so much as _think_ about saying or doing anything that is in any way, shape, or form, disrespectful, then you can guarantee that you can say goodbye to sitting properly for a week. Do you understand, young lady?"

My temper was starting to rise, hating the fact that I was being spoken down to like some insolent toddler. Hating the fact that impressing the Kalahari family was more important than forgiving me for a "mistake". But I had no choice but to submit to my father's whims. I nodded. "I understand, Papa," I said, "I will show the Kalahari's the respect and honor that they, as our guests, deserve. Be assured, you won't have anything to worry about."

I meant that, actually. I really would try to behave myself tonight, though not for Mahmood or Tanya's sake, but for mine. To save my own skin — quite literally. And maybe, if I played my cards right, I could get off the hook and go back to being their "little girl" once more. Go back to having their favor, which would make my life a hell of a lot easier. Mahmood, satisfied with my answer, gave me the closest thing to a smile that he could manage. "Good girl, your obedience is appreciated."

Tanya then decided to speak her piece. "You brought us shame last week, Saria, but I am confident that you will make this right with the Kalahari family, and with us. Now, while we are out, I expect you to complete the morning wash-up." At this, we both shared a glance towards the sink, where the mountain of dishes were piling up. Tanya then directed her attention to Assef, who had been seated at the table, silently saying nothing this whole time. Not wanting to getting involved — the wisest decision, if you ask me. "And, Assef, son, your father and I expressly forbid you from helping your sister this morning. We know you're more than likely eager to help in any way you can, and while we do commend your familial loyalty and the love you share with Saria, it is her duty to make penance for her mistakes. And be warned that if either of you try to foist these chores off on Hamilra, we _will_ find out about it, and you will _both_ suffer the consequences. Am I clear on this?"

Assef only nodded, picking a grape up from the fruit bowl and popping it into his mouth. As I've said, he hadn't said a word this morning. Though, he gave me a look across the table, and as our eyes met, I could read his mind as well as I could read my own. And I knew that, no matter what our piece of shit mother said, no matter what our abusive father said, he would help me out in any way that I needed.

Mahmood wrapped his arm around Tanya's shoulder. "Come along, my darling," he said softly, "let us go about our business. Our children know to adhere to our rules, and I am confident that tonight shall go off without a hitch." With this parting word, he lead Tanya from the room. I listened as their footsteps faded down the hall, then, one of them unlatched the lock on the door, and it shut with a click behind them. The moment we heard the car reverse from the driveway, Assef got up from his seat and made his way over to me.

"I commend you for holding your tongue back there, _Liebchen_ ," he whispered, drawing me in for a hug and tenderly placing a kiss atop my head. "Believe you me, I wanted to wipe those smirks from both their faces. Pieces of shit, the pair of them. Well, come on." He extend a hand to me, smiling in that loving way that made me cherish him so much. "Let's get this wash-up over and done with, shall we?"

I arched a brow, hopping down from the table and making my way to the sink. "You'll get in trouble if you help me, brother. You heard what Tanya said."

Assef laughed, ruffling my hair as I passed him. "Ah, I must have missed the part where that bitch turned into a mind-reader and could tell whether I helped you or not," he said, giving me a teasing wink. "Besides, do you think I give a flying fuck what Tanya or Mahmood say? You know I'm going to help you, no matter what." Then, perhaps reading my mind once more, he added, "oh, and don't worry about Hamilra catching us. She's cleaning outside, and if by any chance, she does come in, then I'll make quick work of ensuring she knows not to breathe a word to anyone."

He would, too. Assef had no qualms about becoming physically violent towards Hamilra in order to get what he wanted from her. I'd seen her cowed and terrified, under the mere threat of his wrath. Besides, the servant's role was to obey her master, was it not? All my brother would need to do was order Hamilra to keep her mouth shut, and she would. After all, while Mahmood and Tanya may have paid her wage, Assef dangled the threat of punishment above her, and that, I knew, was the surest way to gain submission.

"Very well, big brother," I said, as we walked to the sink. "I do truly appreciate the help you offer to me. I suppose we ought to get started on our task."

Turning on the tap, I picked up a sponge and began to clean up the dishes. Assef stood to my side, waiting to dry the now-cleaned dishes and cutlery when I was done with them. Whenever I would be done with them. This was taking such a long, long time. Groaning, I turned to my brother and held up a filth-covered plate. "Stuck on grease. How long has this been here, for crying out loud?"

Assef took the plate from me, inspected it, and then, with a look of disgust on his face, dropped the plate back into the sink. "Looks like it's been there since last night, _Liebchen_ ," he said. "Which, of course, begs the question as to why Hamilra didn't clean it when she was supposed to." He looked at the other plates. "Come to think of it, half of this crap looks like it should have been cleaned last night."

I clenched my fists, gritting my teeth. "Oh, how much do you want to bet that Mahmood and Tanya gave her the night off just to give me more work to do?"

"What need is there for a bet, sister?" Assef asked, while I continued to scrub and scrub. I could sense the disdain he had, not only for our parents, but also for Hamilra, in his voice. "That's exactly the kind of petty crap they'd pull, and you know it." I handed him a plate, and he made quick work of drying it and putting it back in the cupboard. "I mean, Hamilra's not the one in disgrace, is she?" At this, he gave me a sympathetic look and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Either way, Assef, Hamilra must be so delighted to have some time off," I said, turning to face him. Assef and I shared a look, and in his eyes, reflected in my own, I saw the hatred we both shared, not merely for our pathetic, worthless servant, but also for every single person — if you could call them such — of the Hazara race. Having had enough of allowing Hamilra's name to pass through my lips, I changed the subject. "Tell me, brother, do you think Mahmood and Tanya will forgive me after tonight?"

It was a genuine question, and Assef, of course, gave me his genuine yet honest answer. "If they were decent people, then I'd tell you not to worry about it, _Liebchen_ ," he said. "But... these are Mahmood and Tanya we're talking about. You and I both know how much they love to hold a grudge. I'd say that their forgiveness will hinge on the forgiveness of the Kalahari's. If you can convince them to accept your apology, then Mahmood and Tanya will accept it, too. Probably. So just... hope that your apology letter is enough."

"Mahmood did approve of it," I told my brother, clicking my tongue. "I was afraid that he wouldn't. Afraid that he mightn't think I was putting enough effort into it, and then... give me the belt again." Oh, how I wish I lived in a home where such statements didn't need to be voiced. I wish I could be one of those people for whom the mere idea of their father beating them, either for a simple mistake, or a badly written apology for said mistake, was a fathomless concept. But I didn't live in that kind of family. That was not the home life that I'd been raised to expect. "It's probably the most sickening piece of self-debasement I've ever written."

Assef was sympathetic to my plight. By now, we'd just about finished the wash-up, and were clearing away the last remnants. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "You know, Saria, if it were down to me, there is no way you would have to grovel because of a broken vase. I don't care what dead relative of Faraya's made it. It wasn't your fault that you tripped, it was theirs for not warning us there was an issue with the floor. Any one of us could have tripped. Hell, I could have tripped. Adia could have tripped. Would Javid and Faraya have beaten _her_ for that, I wonder?"

"Ah, Adia... that little innocent." I leaned into my brother's embrace, closing my eyes as he absently played with a the ends of my pigtails. "You know... despite all that happened between us, despite how our first meeting went down, I think... I think I'd like to be friends with her. Mahmood and Tanya would be delighted with me, and besides, Adia jan seems like the perfect friend, does she not?"

Assef chuckled at that. "Yes, Saria, the perfect friend. You're learning quickly, my sister, aren't you?" There was a strong sense of pride in his voice, and it warmed my heart to hear it. My brother kissed my head one final time and then stepped away, keeping his gaze on me. "And, now, speaking of friends," his lips curled into a smirk, "I've invited Wali and Kamal to come round for an hour or two later today. We'll probably be out back, so you can come spend some time with us. Maybe get your mind off of tonight."

My lips twitched. That would, I knew, be easier said than done. With the daunting task that laid out for me, I figured that it'd be difficult to truly clear it from my mind. Still, I was grateful for my brother's attempts to cheer me up. And I was happy to know that Wali and Kamal were coming. I liked them; their loyalty to my brother was admirable. They'd been by his side, supporting his schemes and obeying his law since they were children, ever since I was but an infant. Plus, they liked me, too. So this was a good thing, in my book.

"Good," I said. "Well, if that's the case, I should go upstairs and wash up. I'll be down in a minute, Assef."

Assef nodded. With that, I turned on my heel and began my way up the stairs. There was a slight spring in my step now, I honestly looked forward to meeting Wali and Kamal again. I made it to my room, opened the door, and stepped inside. My room was cleaned to pristine perfection. As a very tidy and organized person, I liked to keep everything spotless. Everything had its place. Everything had its purpose.

I walked to my vanity desk, looking down at the folded piece of paper that rested upon it. There it was, the apology letter. The letter that had taken me so very long to write, the letter that I'd worked on for hours, days on end. The letter that I had stressed about from the moment Mahmood ordered me to write it. It was written in my best penmanship; the greatest scribe could not have done a better job. Then again, the greatest scribe would more than likely not have been aching every time they sat down due to a violent beating they'd received the night before.

But... I must say, had I refused to write that letter, then I would have faced the dreaded punishment that was my mother's hairbrush. And that, take it from me, was one of the worst punishments that one could ever, ever face, especially due to the expert way that Tanya wielded that demonic instrument. I remember one of the worst acts of discipline that she enacted upon me with that thing:

A seven-year-old Saria, startled by the barking of the neighbor's dog, had darted out into the road, fearing that I might end up bitten. Tanya had quickly caught up to me, dragging me back into the house, screaming to high heaven about how dangerous my actions were, and, more importantly, how the other neighbor's might have heard my crying and screaming. Because, as we all know, a child being upset is unheard of. Either way, that was the week I ended up facing nightly hairbrush spankings. Hell on Earth, I tell you. After that, I vowed to do everything in my power to ensure I didn't end up facing that implement again.

I sat at my vanity, pushing the letter to one side as I picked up a hairbrush and began running it over my fringe, and the ends of my plaits. I was the perfect, perfect image of beautiful, pure innocence. An image that I knew I would have to uphold to the very, very best of my ability tonight. If I failed, then I could only imagine the sheer agony Mahmood would beat into me.

 _Faraya and her pathetic family better be eternally grateful to me for this letter,_ I thought, glaring at the offending piece of paper. _After all that I have been through because of them, forgiveness for what was an accident is the least they can offer to me. Even if I may not be able to ever truly offer them_ my _forgiveness._

As I waxed poetic over these ruminations, I was interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door. It was slow at first, and then became more rapid. Recognizing the knock — as one I'd heard many, many times of the course of my short life, I grinned with excitement and got up from my seat. I left my room and began making my way down the stairs, to open the door and greet our guests.

I was about half-way down the stairs when Assef appeared from the corridor. He saw me standing there and inclined his head towards the door. "I'll get that, Saria," he said, "It's probably Wali and Kamal."

"Either that or the Kalahari's are come early," I teased, stopping my descent as my brother crossed the hall and reached the door.

"If that's the case, then I'll tell them to fuck off and slam the door right in their faces, _Liebchen_."

I laughed, knowing that this was exactly the kind of thing he would do. Part of me did want to see that happen, I could only just imagine the looks on their faces as my brother verbally degraded them and then slammed the door shut, barring them entry into this, our home. Alas, he and I both knew that it wasn't the Kalahari family at the door. At least, not yet. Assef opened the door, and there stood Wali and Kamal.

And oh, how excited I was to see them both. As I've said, I always liked Assef's friends. He chose his companions very carefully. Many had, in his life, attempted to befriend him, perhaps out of fear, perhaps hoping that, as his friend, they would be spared from his legendary wrath. Which was a stupid thought; I was the only one who could truly ever be spared from Assef's violent, temperamental anger. Still, Wali and Kamal had learned obedience quickly, and I liked them for that. Kamal, especially. If I were to pick a favorite from Assef's friends, it would be him.

"Hello, you two," Assef said, giving them both a nod. They nodded towards him, both in respect and in greeting.

"Hi, Assef," Wali replied. There was a slight hint of nervousness in his voice — something that I noticed he always had when speaking to my brother. Assef's mouth twitched, and he turned to look at me standing at the top of the stairs. He beckoned with his hand for me to come down. Broken from my reverie, I hurriedly made my way down the steps. I reached my brother's side and he wrapped an arm around me, while I beamed at his friends.

I spoke to Kamal first. "Hi, Kamal," I said, and smiled. And then, to the lesser of the two, though I would have preferred not to greet him. But polite society dictates that I do so, simply because I'd much rather not cause some unnecessary tension. At least... not today, of all days. "Hi, Wali." Wali didn't get a smile from me, though, merely a nod and a cursory glance.

Wali nodded in return, but didn't say anything. He wasn't a man of many words, though. Kamal, on the other hand, gave me a polite smile. "Hello, Saria, nice to see you again."

"Well," Assef began, "now that the greetings are out of the way, how's about the three of us go outside for a time?"

A good suggestion, if ever there was one. It was a frigid, yet overcast day, and one that would be perfect to spend a few hours outside for. It'd be good for me to have a little bit of time to relax, too, spend time with people who weren't going to judge me or expect me to be an emotionless, obedient little robot. There would be enough time for Robot Saria later this evening.

I took my brother's hand, smiling up at him as he lead me towards the back door. Wali and Kamal followed, a few steps behind us. They always walked slightly behind Assef, not so much that the untrained eye would be able to tell, but enough that someone like me, someone who knew my brother's mind, would be able to tell that he'd most likely put this thought in their heads from youth. Eventually, we got outside.

Our back-garden was yet another indication of how wealthy we were. There was a large, vast swimming pool — though it was empty right now due to it being cleaned for the winter. We had a large, open space with a volley-ball net; one of my favorite sports. And then... to the right, which is where we were headed, was a seating area, tables, and chairs, covered with a veranda. Assef and I lead the others towards the veranda. The moment we both sat down, my brother gestured for Wali and Kamal to sit, too.

"Would either of you like a drink?" Assef asked his friends.

Wali scratched the back of his head. "Uh, uhm, maybe just some water, Assef. Please," he said. Assef rolled his eyes, then turned to Kamal, who merely glanced towards Wali, then looked at my brother and nodded. I don't think he wanted to annoy Assef by asking for something other than water. Even though it wouldn't be my brother who went and fetched said drinks.

"Water for both of you, then?" Assef asked, and when they nodded, he turned to me. "What about you, _Liebchen_? Do you want some water, too? Or can I order you something else?"

I smirked. "Get me drunk, big brother," I said. "I'll take all of the wine in Mahmood's study." That may have sounded like a joke, and in many ways it sort of was, but on the other hand, I figured I might be able to quench both my thirsts and my nerves regarding my upcoming degradation tonight. Perhaps. I'd never actually drunk anything, of course, but I'd seen my parents have a glass or two, and it seemed to cast out their inhibitions and worries, did it not?

Kamal and Wali shared a glance at my comment. Probably wondering about the fact that a young girl would ask about getting drunk. Of course, they weren't aware of the situation behind my words; Assef hadn't breathed a word of the situation — he was secretive to them about family matters. So, the idea of me drinking was clearly odd to them, no matter how serious I may have been.

Assef rolled his eyes, playfully. "I'm pretty sure our parents would skin the both of us if I let you drink, Sar," he said, "so sorry, but no. Water for everyone, I guess." He leaned back in his seat, clicking his fingers to get the attention of Hamilra, who was sweeping up around one of the nearby tables. I'd barely even noticed her. But now, I glanced her way, a cursory look, the same way I might look at a cockroach scampering across the garden. Hamilra looked up, hearing my brother's incessant clicking. She put the brush and pan to one side, and hurriedly walked over to heed his commands.

"Yes, agha?" she asked, head bowed.

"We'll take four glasses of water," Assef said, not even looking Hamilra in the eye. She didn't deserve his gaze, anyway. "And get us something to snack on too. Maybe some of those caramelized candies my sister likes." He smiled at me, and I returned the gesture, touched by his kindness in that offer. My brother looked at Wali and Kamal, once more. "You two want anything else?"

They shook their heads. Assef shrugged. "Alright then. Hamilra, make it quick and don't forget anything."

Hamilra nodded. "Yes, agha." She then shifted from one foot to the other. It was clear that she wanted to say something, to ask another question, but she was too nervous around my brother to do so. She hovered there for a moment, being the pathetic piece of excrement that she was, until I had enough of her presence and decided to put an end to her standing there.

I drew myself up, raising my chin and sticking my nose into the air. "You may speak, Hamilra," I told her, imperiously, motioning for her to do so. Hamilra gave me a nervous smile, something that I certainly did not return.

Either way, Hamilra fumbled her way through an answer. "Thank you, khanom," she said, deferentially. She paused. "Uh, I was... I was merely going to ask if any of you wished for ice in your water?"

As you can imagine, that was a very stupid fucking question. What in the world did she expect, for us to sit here with lukewarm water? I was just about to reiterate how dumb that line of thinking was, but Assef got there before me. "Maybe you could fetch us a spare glass of water and a knife, and we can wait for that to freeze before cutting it up ourselves?" he snapped sarcastically.

Hamilra sputtered, but didn't say another word, which was probably for the best. She merely turned on her heel, turned around and bristled away. I rolled my eyes, muttering, "stupid bitch", behind her back. Assef laughed, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and giving me a mischievous look. There was such joy to be found in causing the fear and apprehension that reflected in Hamilra's eyes whenever she spoke to us. And it didn't take long before she returned, along with the glasses of water and those delicious candies that I so loved. She placed the items on the table in front of us, bowed, and walked away.

I picked up a candy and popped it into my mouth. Absolutely delicious, one of my favorite treats. I could eat bowls of these, but I figured it would be best if I paced myself. Didn't want to be too full for dinner, after all. I felt relaxed here, sat with my favorite person and his friends.

We spoke of anything and everything which, of course, was good. I did need a distraction, after all. The four of us spent our time together — a few hours, if I recall correctly — chatting, laughing and discussing other such topics. Assef usually lead the conversation, occasionally allowing the other two to chime in. From time to time, he'd reminisce about times spent tormenting the younger children of Kabul.

His stories always made me laugh, regardless of how cruel and dark the rest of the world may view them as. I could listen to my brother's words all day, could spend eternity listening to these tales that showcased his strength and power over others. But alas, much as I would have liked to spend my time with Assef and his friends, the hours were not on my side. As time went on, I became acutely aware that Mahmood and Tanya would be back soon, and with them, would come the upcoming humiliation of facing the Kalahari's again.

Assef seemed to read my mind on this, because, after some time had passed, he stood and gestured for Wali and Kamal to do the same. "You two need to get going," he said. "We have guests coming round this evening and we need to get ready for that." He paused, and then gestured towards the back door. "Go round the back way. I'll see you both some other time, alright?"

They both nodded. "Uh, yeah. Uhm... I suppose we'll see you around, Assef," Wali muttered. He then looked down at me, as though I were an afterthought. "And you too, Saria. Maybe we'll see you around too." Dear God, this was getting ridiculously awkward. I rolled my eyes. Whether or not Wali noticed, I don't know. Still, he gave me a nervous, twitchy smile. A smile that I knew was only for my brother's benefit and not for mine. "Have fun tonight, both of you."

I made a dismissive, clicking noise. Have fun tonight, seriously? Yeah, fat fucking chance of that happening. Assef rolled his eyes and muttered, "damn, what an idiot," to me, in German. It was clear from the look of hurt confusion on Wali's face that while he didn't understand what Assef was saying, he did comprehend that it was insulting, and demeaning towards him. My brother then gestured again towards the back gate. "Right, well, get going. You too, Kamal."

"Sure. Bye, Assef. Bye, Saria." Kamal smiled — a smile that was both genuine and nervous, a smile that I found my own lips twitching at. With those parting words, he and Wali turned on their heels and began to trek across the snow. My brother and I both watched them go. The moment that they opened the back gate, and stepped through, Assef faced me, and grinned.

"Sister, I know I said we needed to get ready, but... I think we have enough time to stay outside for a little while longer, don't you?" Oh, so that was the real reason that he'd told Wali and Kamal to leave. To give us both a moment of peace and privacy together, without annoying friends or parents to deal with. I followed my brother back to our seats, happy to have another blessed moment alone with him.

We chatted aimlessly for a time, about everything and nothing, as only those so blatantly, utterly, connected could. How I loved spending time with my brother, no matter what we were doing. Assef always had it in him to make me feel as though everything would be good and right with the world. Ah, but if only our time together could have lasted forever, and not be... interrupted... by a certain bitch named Tanya Ahmed.

The crunching of footsteps across the snow made me turn my head to see my mother stalking her way towards us. She had that same, perpetual scowl upon her face — whatever activities she and Mahmood had done today had clearly done nothing to improve her mood. Assef sighed, barely audible to anyone but me, and straightened up from where he was slouched in his chair. I did the same, tilting my head down deferentially.

Tanya stopped in front of us, hands on her hips. "A nice day to spend outside," she said. To the untrained ear, that was little more than a mother making conversation with her children. But I knew. I knew what she really meant: 'What do you think gives you the right to enjoy yourself when you are in disgrace?'. I continued to look down at the ground, moving the snow underneath with my toe. "I trust you got all your required work done, daughter?"

Daughter. I wasn't even worthy of having my name spoken. And the way she said it, too. As though what she really meant was "servant." I glanced up, concerned she may take offence if I didn't look her in the eye when speaking to her. "Yes, khanom," I replied. "I've completed all tasks that you have set out for me." Of course, I made no mention of the fact that Assef had helped me. I would not throw my brother under the bus like that.

Speaking of Assef, Tanya then turned her attention to my brother. Her countenance became softer, as she looked upon the child that was not a disappointment. "Was your sister well-behaved today, Assef?" she asked. Assef nodded, glancing from me to Tanya.

"She was utterly perfect, Mother, I have no complaints," he told her, in a tone that made it clear he wanted little to do with this conversation. Tanya tutted at this, and Assef shot her a 'you really think I'm going to snitch on my sister?' look. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it. Mahmood was not around to threaten us with the belt, you see, and I could tell that Tanya did not wish to broker any form of argument with my brother.

After this rather awkward pause, Tanya spoke again. "Right, well..." she began, glancing towards the house and then back to Assef and I. "Well, I merely came out here to tell you that the Kalahari's will be arriving soon, and that you need to get back into the house and get ready." She looked me up and down. "You at least didn't manage to get your clothing dirty, Saria, which is saying something."

I bristled at her remark. I prided myself on my neatness, only caring to dirty my clothing when it was absolutely necessary, and this bitch's insinuation that I had spent the day rolling around in the dirt-covered snow like some animal, was rather an insult to my sensibilities. Assef placed a hand over mine, rubbing it with his knuckles. This simple gesture was enough to calm me down, at least to some degree.

"Well, you'd best get washed up," Tanya said again. Without another word, Assef and I stood and began to make our way back to the house. Just before I reached the back door, Tanya caught up with us and took me by the arm. I whirled around, more than a little startled, and she gestured for Assef, who was standing there with a raised brow, to go back into the house. "I need a quick word with your sister, Assef. Go back inside the house, son."

Assef hesitated; I could tell he was wrestling with the choice to stay with me or not incur our mother's wrath. I motioned for him to go on, indicating that I would be fine. I was confident that Tanya wasn't about to do anything to really harm me right now; merely a few well-placed insults here and there. Either way, I didn't want my brother to get in trouble for 'sticking his oar in' as the bitch holding me would have put it. Assef nodded, and then walked the final few paces back into the house.

The moment he was out of sight, Tanya whirled me around to face her. She placed her hands on my shoulders, and bent down in the snow so that we were on a level, taking care to make sure that her winter overcoat didn't get dirty, of course. She looked me in the eyes, and her stare was piercing. "Now, Saria," she said, "your father tells me that your apology letter is completed upon your desk?" I nodded, and she continued to speak. "Good. Now, I expect you to be as formal and obedient as possible when you face the Kalahari's tonight. You will look them in the eye and speak with the utmost respect, do you understand?"

_Well, seeing as you keep drilling these points into me like you're trying to teach a toddler to speak, yeah, I fucking get it._

I thought these things, but of course, my brain comprehended that saying them aloud would be a bad idea. Instead, I gave Tanya my brightest smile, and said, "Of course, khanom. The Kalahari's deserve nothing less than an appropriate and sincere apology from me, and that is what they shall get." I pulled away from her, and took a small step backwards. "Now, please excuse me, I wish to get ready before our guests arrived."

Not even waiting for her response, I turned on my heel and walked back into the house. I made my way up the stairs and into my room. Standing at my vanity desk, I looked into the mirror and tilted my head from one side to the left, before straightening up and adjusting the ribbons on either side of my head. I picked up a hairbrush and gently brushed the ends of my plaits. Once that was done, I did a quick wash up in the bathroom. Then, after making a quick pit-stop back to my room to grab the apology letter, I walked downstairs and into the living room.

Assef, Mahmood and Tanya were already there, seated on the couch. Tanya gave me a look, up and down, before nodding. I ignored her, and sat down on the sofa, beside Assef, as far away from my parents as was possible. None of us said a word; there were no words to be said. All that was needed now was for us to wait. So, wait we did. One minute, two minute, three minutes... all passing by more slowly than the other.

Finally, after what was about twenty or so minutes, give or take, there came a knocking upon the front door. Mahmood and Tanya stood, motioning for my brother to do the same. "Stay there," he said, "we shall answer that." He then pointed his finger directly at me, his face contorted in a stern look. "Behave." With that, he and Tanya walked to the door and opened it.

There, standing on the threshold, were the family that had been the source of such turmoil for me these past days. The Kalahari's. Javid and Faraya stood side by side. Javid had his hand on his wife's waist. Standing with them, were their children. Yes, children. Adia, that little brat who didn't do anything to defend me, and an older looking boy who must have been her brother, Masood.

It was Mahmood who spoke up first. "Salaam, Javid and Faraya jan," he said, "thank you so much for coming, your presence in our home is more than appreciated." He stepped back, allowing them entrance. "Please, please, come in. May we take your coats?"

Javid and Faraya, along with their children, stepped into our home, removing their coats and handing them to Tanya, who placed them in a small closet under the stairs. She gave a plastic smile and motioned towards the living room. "Right this way, please." She sounded like an air hostess directing passengers to their seats. The Kalahari's followed my parents. As they entered the room, I shared a quick glance at Assef before turning back to our guests.

"Ah," Javid said, upon seeing us. "Hello there, you two. It's nice to see you both again."

Assef stepped forward, shaking the other man's hand. "I hope you and your family have been keeping well, sir," he said, a shining example of a polite, perfect son. Faraya spoke her own greeting to my brother, her voice a little subdued. Then, the two turned their attention to me. The moment that they did, I felt a shiver run up my spine. I pleaded to any divine being that would listen for things to run smoothly.

"Hello, Saria," Faraya said. This surprised me. I... I honestly had not expected that she would even want to say a word to me, given the 'trauma' that I had put her through when last we met. That said, though, she wasn't smiling when she spoke, and her gaze was a little off, as though she didn't quite want to look at me. She did not put out her hand for me to shake, though, and so I, of course, did not do so either.

I merely bowed my knees in curtsy, glancing down at my feet for a moment before back up to this woman. "Good evening, Faraya khanom. Thank you for visiting us. My family and I are very happy to see you and yours again."

"Yes," Mahmood said, cutting across me before I could get another word in. "My daughter speaks truth, it is lovely to see you all again. Especially since the events of our last meeting." He then glanced at me, and I knew what the next words out of his mouth would be before he even spoke them. "And speaking of that dreadful evening, Saria here has written an apology letter for her actions. If you will be seated, please, she will read it now for your approval."

As the Kalahari's sat, so did the rest of my family. Now, I was the only one still standing. This made me feel incredibly awkward, like I'd been called into the principal's office for a scolding. Best to just get this over with, the sooner the better. I reached into the front pocket of my dress, and pulled out the folded up letter. Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and thus began this dreadful humiliation. Grovelling mode; activate.

" _Dear Kalahari's_ ," I began, looking at them for a moment, before back to the letter, " _I_ _am writing this letter to apologize sincerely for my behavior during the dinner held at your home. You extended the greatest of courtesy towards me and I repaid that in a manner that can only be described as 'deplorable."_ Yes, because that was the best term to use when describing an accident, wasn't it? I continued, each word making me loathe these people more and more. " _My parents have raised me to be dutiful, obedient and to always be mindful and respectful of the property of others, yet what I did does not reflect their teachings, nor the values that the Ahmed family strive to uphold._ "

That disgusting line was one that Mahmood had insisted I write there. Couldn't have anyone think that he and Tanya went around teaching their children to knock over priceless family heirlooms now, could we? I glanced towards him as I said it, and could see his chest swell slightly in approval. Cocky bastard. Looking down at the letter again, I consoled myself with the knowledge that things were running smoothly thus far and eventually it would all be over and done with.

" _Truly, there can be no excuse for my actions. To call it a mistake seems to completely overlook the grievous harm and sorrow that I caused to your family, and especially to you, Faraya khanom. While I humbly admit that I was unaware of the deeper significance to the vase that I broke, and it's sentimental value to you, I am aware that even so, breaking another's property is highly disrespectful._ "

Every word became increasingly harder to read. How I yearned to crumple that piece of paper into the ground and tell these people just what I truly felt about them. To tell them that they were stupid, pathetic fools. To scold them for not saying a word in my defense, and allowing me to get into the trouble that I did. I glanced at Adia, for a split second, and our eyes met. She stared at me, then nervously glanced to where Assef was sitting, and then, finally, she looked back down at her lap.

There was only a little bit more of the letter for me to read. I steeled myself. I could do this. I could get through this. I'd come this far, and I would see this through to the end. I looked at Faraya now, this next part spoken directly to her. " _Faraya khanom, I cannot begin to comprehend the level of pain that I have unwittingly wrought upon you, with the simple onslaught of my selfish actions. It brings me shame to think of, and I apologize, from the bottom of my heart. I ask, humbly, that you and your family may find it in yourself to forgive me, and that I may be given the chance to prove myself. I know that I can do better, and should you_ —" _this next part directed to the rest of the family, too — "find it in yourselves to offer me a second chance, then I shall be eternally grateful._

_Yours,_

_Saria Ahmed."_

And there it was. Done. Finished. I folded up the letter once more, and placed it into my pocket again. For what felt like an eternity, there was silence. The Kalahari's stared at me, and I stared back at them. It was Faraya's face that interested me the most. She would be the one to decide my fate. If I could gain her forgiveness, then everything would be okay. I looked into her eyes, searching her every emotion. How I hoped that my letter resonated with her; that somehow, some way, it tugged on her heart strings.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Faraya stood up. She walked towards me. I, who had not been expecting this one bit, was a little startled. Planting my feet firmly into the ground, I kept my head down, as was expected of me. When she reached me, Faraya placed her hands on my shoulder. "Saria," she said. I still didn't move. Faraya tipped my chin up gently, looking me in the eyes. Forgiveness. That was all I saw in her gaze. Pure, beautiful forgiveness. I almost breathed an audible sigh of relief, but didn't. Faraya smiled softly.

"That was a beautiful letter, sweetheart," she said, "thank you. I... I know that you didn't mean to hurt anyone, and that what happened was just an accident. You are forgiven, Saria. Completely and utterly forgiven." She paused, then open her arms. "Now, why don't you come here and give your Khala Faraya a big hug? Hmm?"

There was nothing in the world that I wanted to do less, especially after she'd just called me 'sweetheart', but still, I wrapped my arms around Faraya's waist. She smelled of cinnamon and freshly baked bread. She was warm, and soft. I could feel the forgiveness coming off of her in waves. I'd won her over, I'd done it. I'd won them all over. Thank _fuck_. Finally, my embrace with Faraya ended, and we pulled back from one another. Then, it was time for the rest of the Kalahari's to offer their forgiveness.

First came Javid, with a handshake and a, "young lady, you have a beautiful way with words. Perhaps we're looking at a future University literature professor here?" I smiled, and thanked him, though really his words just passed right over my head. I wasn't interested in his compliments, whether they be real or not. He stepped away, and then, Masood approached.

Up close and personal, I could tell there was something off about him. He had bags under his eyes, and he looked as though he'd not seen a good night's rest in a long, long time. Did he still have the flu? Or was there something more... something deeper... that was wrong? And if he was still sick, then why, _why_ , did his parents think that it was a good idea to bring him here?

"Well," he said, in a stilted tone, "I'm glad that this unpleasant business is over and done with. My name's Masood, by the way. It's very nice to meet you, Saria."

I echoed his statement in kind; pleasant falsehoods being the order of the day, it seemed. And then... then came the forgiveness that I needed the most. That of my mother and father. While Tanya smiled at me from the couch, nodding gently, the picture of the caring, loving mother who had accepted her little girl's mistake and was now able to look past it, Mahmood stood and walked towards me.

He drew me into a one-armed embrace, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of my head. "You've made us all very proud today, my child," he said, with a tenderness that I had not heard from him in quite some time. "You can consider your punishment well and truly over now." He pulled back from me and cupped my chin, though with not half of the tenderness that Faraya had shown. "I love you, Saria. Very, very much."

"I love you too, Papa," I replied, making my voice sound even more childish and innocent. Mahmood stepped away, and Tanya then decided to speak up.

"Now, I think there's more that us adults need to discuss, perhaps over some tea and a few cakes?" Her words were met with approval, and then, she turned her attention back on me. "Saria, sweetie, why don't you take Adia up to your room to play for a little while? And Assef, take Masood outside for a game of volleyball?"

I almost opened my mouth, almost questioned why I couldn't just take Adia out to play volleyball as well, why they insisted on keeping me separated from my Assef like this, but then... I stopped myself. Forgiveness may have been granted, but it could be taken away on a dime, and I still balanced on that treacherous tightrope. I turned to Adia, who was looking at me with an unreadable expression. "Come on, Adia. Let's go play!"

With a display of childish innocence and excitement, I reached out and took the younger girl by the hand. I began to lead her with me, up the stairs and into my room. Just as she had done when we first met. However, unlike that time, I offered nothing in the form of companionable conversation. I didn't speak a word, didn't even glance behind me to look at her. Finally, we reached my room, and I pushed open the door. "Go right ahead, Adia jan," I gestured for her to step inside. She did so, and her eyes widened slightly.

"It's... It's clean," she muttered, chewing on the inside of her lip. "I mean... way cleaner than mine."

I laughed. "I try to keep it neat, makes finding things all that more easy, you know? Now, come on." I walked towards my bed, and sat down, gesturing for her to do the same. Adia crossed the carpet, and gingerly perched herself on the edge of my bed, looking to all the world like she was afraid of getting it dirty or something. She bit her lip and looked around, while an awkward silence passed between us. Her eyes were focused on my bookshelf, while my eyes were trained on her.

Yes, I still blamed her for my unfair and cruel punishment. I still blamed her whole damn family, actually. All of the needless suffering that I'd had to go through, the pitiful debasement, and for what? For a broken vase? A piece of ceramic that any good craftsman could have made a replacement of? There was no fairness, was there? No true justice. Faraya got her apology letter and the sympathy of my parents, and what did I get? A humiliation that would stick with me through the ages.

A humiliation that I did not understand why it needed to be pushed upon me. Oh, sure, I knew the reasons, from a logical perspective. Or... from Mahmood and Tanya logic. I'd done something that upset Faraya, and may have potentially caused a massive issue for my father's business; the most important thing, of course. Therefore, an apology was to be expected. But from an emotional standpoint... I just couldn't feel it.

Sure, I knew why Faraya had been upset. Logically, it wasn't hard to see why she'd feel bad, seeing this last remnant of memory from her father, a man I assumed she loved, shattered into a million pieces. Especially since her father was dead, and could no longer make her a replacement. That vase had been important to her, very important, and I'd destroyed that. From a logical perspective, her reaction made sense. I can only imagine how I'd feel if someone broke a priceless gift my Assef had made for me. Especially if... no. I couldn't even bring that thought to its conclusion.

But then... standing there that day, looking down at Faraya, seeing how upset she was, I must needs admit that I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. Well, no, that's not true. I did feel some things. Disgust at myself for being so stupid. Fear for myself and the punishment that I would face — a fear that, as we all know, was well founded. But when it came to Faraya, when it came to the guilt that I should have been feeling, well, then that did not exist. Call me an emotionless robot, call me an empty husk of nothing but my own selfish worries, for those were all I could truly feel in that moment.

Now, brought back to reality as I looked at her daughter, this sprightly, bubbly little ten-year-old who was utterly oblivious to the battles I faced, to my own struggles, I realized that I had not yet had my true retribution. The vengeance that Assef promised me I could, and would, have. And oh, how I craved it. I craved their suffering, craved their own apologies, craved... craved... craved Adia's submission.

I slid closer to the girl, placing my hands on my knees. "Adia?" I asked, my voice gentle, barely above a whisper; a voice that was both hesitant and confident, shaken but still with a little bit of hope to cling to. She turned, and I made my play. "Adia, uh, can... can I ask you something?"

She nodded, and I made my move. "Uhm... I don't... I hope I'm not overstepping here, but... I have to know. I have to get this off of my chest. Are you still... mad at me?"

Adia hesitated. It was clear that my question had thrown her for a loop. Her eyes flickered, as if she wasn't expecting me to come right out and say it. She wouldn't have, that much I knew. She would have kept her mouth shut and not breathed a word, no matter what. Still, the question was out there; and it was now down to her to answer it. She gulped, and looked at me. "I... Well... Uhm..."

They were the hesitant noises of someone who did not wish to answer, who worried about my reaction, about how... how I may feel about what she would say. But I would not have this. I had thrown this hook out and I would be damned if Adia did not take the bait. Truly, what kind of a relationship would this be if I sowed the seeds by permitting her to remain quiet when I wanted an answer?

I sidled closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Adia, you can tell me. I promise... I just... I have to know. I'd like us to be friends, close friends, and... well... I want a friend that I can talk to about things like this. You did seem very mad back at your house. Were you? Are you still?"

Finally, I got myself an answer. Adia nodded. "Yes," she said. "I... I was mad at you, Saria. I was really upset. I mean... you... you made my mommy cry. We were supposed to have a good evening, but you... you broke that vase and made everyone really sad. I know it's not your fault, and I know you... you didn't mean to, but you have to understand." She looked at me, her eyes shining. "You hurt someone that I love; and that... that made me angry. But I'm... I'm not angry anymore. I forgive you."

 _Forgive me?_ I thought, incredulously, _forgive me?! As if I am the one who did something wrong, when you, little girl, didn't speak up in my defense? You high and mighty bitch, you think you know pain? You think you know misery? You know jack-shit!_

"Oh." That was all I could say. I leaned back, looking up. Tears welled up in my eyes, both of frustration and a need to manipulate this child. I gulped out a noise that was a sob and a sigh all at the same time. Internally, I hoped that Adia would take the bait. And... just as I had expected, just as I had predicted, she latched to my hook, and I began to reel her in.

"It really was an accident, Adia," I said, my voice choked. "You... you saw what happened, didn't you? I just stumbled; there was a dent in your floor, and I... I lost my footing. I really didn't mean to do it. You know, you know I didn't mean to do anything. I didn't mean to..." I whispered, tears rolling down my cheeks. A few well-placed hiccups and whispers escaped their way from my lips.

Adia rubbed my back, soothingly, though I could tell she was confused. Clearly she was not used to providing comfort to a stranger, and most especially a girl who was a year older than her. I could feel her sympathy coming off of her in waves. "I'm sorry, Saria. I'm really not mad anymore, truly. I... Please, please don't cry. It's all going to be okay, I promise."

I pulled away from her, sniffed, and wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve. "You promise?" I asked. She nodded, and I exhaled. "That's good. I wouldn't want you to hate me or anything. 'Cause I... I really would like to be your friend, Adia. I truly would." I placed my hand over hers, and was elated when she did not pull away. I was getting to her; she wanted this friendship as much as I yearned for it. Though for different reasons, of course.

"I'd like to be your friend too, Saria," Adia said, "I.. I don't have a lot of friends. It gets lonely sometimes. I really want someone who I can have play-dates with and who I can share my toys with and, you know... all the things that friends do with each other."

Perhaps she would like us to braid each other's hair too? I nodded. "I'd like that, too. I don't have very many friends, either. So I know how you feel. But it's okay now, cause we can be friends. Would you like that?"

Adia nodded, like the gullible fool that she was. "I'd like that, Saria."

With that, I opened my arms for embrace, and Adia leaned right into them. I held her close, feeling her little heart beating, feeling the palpable relief that she felt. She'd wanted a new friend so badly, yearned for companionship, and here I was, offering her that exact thing that she had been so desperate for. A few well-placed words, a few crocodile tears, and she was more than eager to offer herself up to me. She was like clay, just waiting for an expert like me to mold her and make her perfect.

She may have had her flaws, but she was fixable, and fix her I would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter. The next one follows a minor event from the original novel, which is one of several aspects that I plan to expand upon. It, hopefully, should be up very soon. Thank you all again! This story means the world to me, and I am blessed to be able to share it.
> 
> Thank you!


	4. Blood Stained Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Saria delivered her apology letter to the Kalahari family. She managed to win them over with her charm and poise, and even began an attempt to manipulate their young daughter, Adia. Now, a few days have passed and Saria finds herself bearing witness to just how cruel her brother can be when it comes to defending his beloved sister's welfare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this story so far. It truly does mean the world to me. A fair warning ahead of time that this chapter deals with a rather violent incident that is mentioned in the book. It's the part that details a certain nickname Assef has acquired for himself in the book. Of course, this will be going into more detail on that scene.
> 
> Once again, I don't condone the actions, thoughts, behaviours and feelings displayed by the characters in this story, and do not share the beliefs and feelings held by Saria. This is merely a work of fiction; so please keep that in mind.
> 
> I own none of the characters, places, plot events and other such plot points that come from The Kite Runner. Those are the property of Khaled Hosseini. I'm just sharing my love for them with this story. I do, however, own the OCs and original plot points not found in the original novel.
> 
> Thank you all again! I dedicate this story to all of the very, very special people in my life and to those who believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. You know who you are, and you will always have a special place in my heart.

There are some days in my life that I remember much more vividly than others. Days that are, I guess you could say, completely engraved in my mind. Seared into my memory — no matter what I do or say, I cannot forget them. Some of those days I wish that I could forget. But others, well... others are days that give me a sense of hope. Days that I find myself holding on tight to, in this strange and foreign land, where everything is so different than what my life once was. These are the memories that warm my heart. And this day, that I am going to write about, contains one such memory.

It is the day that I realized just how far my brother would go to protect me, how much defending my honor means to Assef. And... from my point of view, it was also the day that I understood what excitement true violence could give me, and just how easy it is for me to switch off and completely desensitize myself from even the most horrific acts. How even the most gruesome of acts could provide a brilliant adrenaline rush.

I lay back on my bed, casually thumbing through the pages of an old poetry book that Tanya had bought for me on my ninth birthday. The pages were yellowing, and stained from smudges of my fingerprints, but the ink was still legible and that was all that mattered, I supposed. I held the book above my head as I flicked through the pages, sometimes stopping every so often when I found a poem that caught my attention. Which... none of them really did, but things had been quiet lately and this was, in a way, my attempt to stimulate my brain lest I go absolutely stir-crazy.

A few days had passed since the incident with the Kalahari's. I was right when I said that Mahmood and Tanya would forgive me when that family did. The very next morning, Tanya had hugged me close to her, smiling down at me as she praised me for being such a good and obedient girl. She told me that she was proud of me for taking my punishment with such maturity, and Mahmood said that he thought I brought great pride and happiness to the family by standing up and admitting my mistake. I'd thanked them, and then... the matter was dropped. No more needed to be said.

No more could be said. They knew, as well as I, that this forgiveness dangled on a thin thread. Forgiveness from my parents was never true forgiveness; it was a forgiveness that would be tinged with shame, a forgiveness that gave them licence to bring this event up time and again to mock me, but gave me no leverage with which to ever defend myself. It was their ammunition to use against me whenever they should feel the need.

But now, at least, on this day, I could find some semblance of peace. Mahmood and Tanya had gone away for the weekend. Where, I was not sure; Mahmood's airline business meant that he and Tanya would travel often throughout the years. Where, I didn't know, and nor did I care. I stopped giving much of a shit about that. Oh, I'm sure that he had told me where they were going, but I'd drowned out that part of the conversation. Where they were didn't matter. What did matter was the fact that a) they were gone, and b) that meant I got to spend an either weekend with my brother.

I thumbed through about four or five more pages of my book, often skipping over the poems written there. They varied from poems that one could tell were written by a literary scholar, to those that looked as though said scholar had gotten bored, handed the page to their six-year-old child and said, "Here, write something." Those poems made me roll my eyes. Flicking through another few pages, I came across a poem that caught my eye, and actually made me stop to take another look.

It was a short poem, only a few lines long. Nothing much to be spoken about, but the contents of it... talking about a flower and its beauty, its gentleness... well, for some reason, reading it, I found myself thinking about Adia. Not that this was difficult, I'd been thinking about that girl quite a lot. Despite the fact that time had passed since last we spoke, she had wormed her way into the forefront of my mind. She was... she was an absolutely fascinating specimen, in my point of view.

So pure, so good. Adia was the embodiment of purity and gentleness; a sweet, happy, bubbly and fun-loving little girl that knew nothing but kindness and light in her life. The type of child who was the truth of the innocent facade that I sought to put forth to the world on a daily basis. Honestly? It still surprised me that I was able to charm her as easily as I did. I thought that it'd take a lot more convincing, a lot more work on my part. But no... she'd just bitten the bullet and jumped right in, not even acknowledging or caring that she was swimming around in shark infested waters.

I loved the power that she gave me. That feeling of untested control against another human being. It was almost as though she were a weird sort of... science experiment, to me. I wanted to see just how easy it would be to truly mold her. What tactics would work on her, and what wouldn't. How much give and take would be needed to ensure that all of her flaws were managed and she became as I desired her to be.

All the same, I found myself curiously wondering what could lead Adia to be so trusting and kind? What could lead her to show so much openness and caring towards someone that she barely even knew? From the moment that we met, she was so eager to be my friend. Eager to share her toys, to talk to me, to play with me. Eager to have my approval. I could see that in her eyes, the eagerness to please. Why would she feel this way towards me? Was it loneliness?

Was she truly that starved for compassion? She'd admitted to not having many school-chums, so perhaps she found a kinship with me for that reason. Lonely children gravitated towards other children that they perceived as being lonely, after all. Outcasts sought out others who they believed were outcasts. Freaks sought out protection and kindness from all corners of the playground, and Adia's nature was the epitome of freakishness to me. I just... couldn't comprehend clinging to someone I'd just met. But then again, I had only ever truly connected to Assef.

Speaking of Assef, my brother appeared in the doorway. He stood, arms crossed over his chest, smiling. "There you are, _Liebchen_. I was wondering where you'd gone off to," he said. I looked up at him, a wide smile making its way onto my face. Sitting up from my place on the bed, I gestured for my brother to come and sit down with me. I always wanted closeness with him. Assef walked into the room, crossed to the bed, and sat down next to me.

He looked down at the book that I was reading, and clicked his tongue. "Hmm. I didn't think you were all that interested in poetry, Sar," he said. "And especially for a book bought when you were a child." Assef jabbed a finger at the page I'd left laying open. The poem that reminded me of Adia, though I didn't tell my brother such. I closed the book and pushed it to one side on the bed, then rolled onto my side, my upper half curled up onto Assef's lap.

"I don't, really," I said, closing my eyes as my brother ran his fingers through my hair. "They're shit, for the most part. But that said, they do help to alleviate the boredom, if even in the smallest of ways. Just... just having something to do."

Assef chuckled. "Well..." he began, dragging the word out for emphasis. "If you're that bored, _Liebchen_..." He paused. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, furrowing my brow in curiosity. I took his hand in mine and casually looped our fingers together. He looked at me, and smiled. "I do know another way to keep your mind occupied."

And now he'd really grabbed my attention. His vagueness was keeping me on tenterhooks, and I wanted to know more. I was eager to know more. Lifting my self up on an elbow, I looked at Assef, tilting my head to one side. "Well, come on, Assef. Don't keep me in the dark here. You've got something? What is it?"

My brother gently moved himself away from the bed and stood up. I sat up, too, running a hand through my curls and looking up at my brother, eager to see what he'd procure. He reached for something in his coat pocket, and I registered then, that he'd been wearing it since he first walked into the room. What could he be looking for? His brass knuckles? No, he kept those in the pockets of his jeans. But then... what? I waited, impatiently, for my answer.

Assef finally procured a tied, cloth bag from his pocket. He grinned, and dangled the bag in front of me. "Well, Sar? What do you think?" From the noise that the bag made when he shook it, I could tell there were a sizable amount of coins in there. Quite a bit of money. There was no need to guess at where he'd gotten it from. Mahmood really needed to take better care of his finances. Assef shook the bag again. I laughed and jumped from the bed, reaching out for it.

"Ooh, give it to me! Give it to me!" I said, laughing. This wasn't a demand, though, rather a playful game on my part. Assef held the bag over his head, far too high for someone of my tiny stature to reach. I tried again, and this time, he held out the other hand to stop me. "Hey, no fair!" I complained good-naturedly.

My brother rolled his eyes. "What's not fair is you trying to steal from me, _Liebchen_ ," he said, tapping me on the nose. "Honestly, trying to steal from your own brother. I'm... I'm hurt, really." He placed a hand on his heart, eyes downcast. To all the world, he would have seemed totally genuine, as if my actions had honestly upset him. But I knew my Assef better than I knew my own mind. I knew when he was truly feeling something, and when he was faking or joking, and this was definitely the latter.

I folded my arms, pouting, playing my own little game here. "Like you're one to talk about stealing, Assef. You took that cash from our parents, after all. Can you not conceive of the hurt Mahmood and Tanya will feel if they were to find out?" Of course, this being little more than a game on my end, too. There was nothing in the world that could make me tell my parents about this, and Assef knew it too. We were merely teasing each other. Being as close as we were gave us grounds on which to do that.

"I took this money on your behalf, sister," he said, finally letting his arm down and placing the money back into his pocket. "I figured, after all the shit you've been through recently, you could do with a bit of fun." He paused, and before he even got the chance to finish his train of thought, I stepped forwards and wrapped my arms around him. Assef laughed, placing a hand on the back of my head. "You're welcome," he said, then tilted my head up so I was looking at him. "So, what do you say? I have enough money in here to buy both of us lunch in that little cafe you like so much, and, I'm sure, more than enough left over so that you can buy yourself something nice later, too."

That did sound like an absolutely splendid idea. When was the last time that someone, anyone, had treated me to lunch out, as well as offered to buy me something later? My brother truly was the most generous soul that I knew. I grinned so big it felt as though my whole mouth would split in twain. "That sounds wonderful, Assef. Thank you. Now, if you'll just let me get my coat, we can get going."

Assef nodded. He stood back from me and gestured towards the door, which was still hanging half-ajar. "Would you like me to...?" He motioned out into the hallway, "...step outside while you get ready?"

I shook my head, picking up my book and placing it down on my desk. "I only need to get my coat and shoes," I said, walking over to the closet and opening it. I rooted through it, trying to pick out the best fit. Which of my coats would match the lilac dress that I'd chosen to wear on that day. That, and the shoes, of course. Those were very important, too. Had to look pretty and perfect, after all.

Not wanting to keep my Assef waiting too long, I finally settled on my navy overcoat, with matching shoes and gloves. I put them on, first the shoes and coat, buttoning up the coat and tying the buckles on my shoes. After that, I slipped on my gloves. It was an overcast day, here, and winters could get bitingly chilly here in Kabul, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Once I was ready, I turned back to Assef, and grinned.

"Can we go now?"

Assef smiled. "Are you really that eager to leave the house?" he asked. I nodded, and he beckoned me to follow him. Making my way to his side, I walked alongside him as he left the house. After ensuring that the front door was locked, we walked out of our large, walled compound. Assef shut the wrought iron gates behind him, locking them behind him. It would not do for someone to get any ideas about breaking in, after all.

We made our way down the road and out into the streets. The streets were filled with people, men, women, children, all going about their day. The hustle and bustle wasn't all that surprising, really. Given that it was the winter holidays, and schools were out for the next three months, most families took advantage of this time to spend together. Mothers and fathers taking their children to the markets, friends taking advantage of having no schoolwork to contend with and playing games, just having fun. On some level, I had to wonder what little Adia was doing today. I quickly shook the thought from my mind, I wasn't here to think about her, after all.

Somewhere on the journey, I noticed a few young boys, about fourteen or so, kicking a ball around. They were completely engrossed in their game, chatting amongst themselves. But then, as we drew nearer, one of them, possibly the eldest of this little group, whispered something to his friends. They nodded and he picked up the ball, tucking it under his arm. Then, the boys began to walk away, backwards, slowly, their eyes never leaving our line of sight as we passed.

As they neared us, I could see that each of them were giving my brother a nervous side-glance. One of them even made a nervous little whimper as he passed, shrinking in on himself as though he was afraid Assef would reach out and grab him then and there. This was standard, really. The children in the Wazir-Akbhar-Khan district were utterly petrified of my brother, and for more than good reason. His violence and cruelty had become legendary — as was his hair-trigger temper. It didn't take much to set Assef off; and those who did so, well, they faced much deserved punishment for it. My brother lashed out at anyone who incurred his ire, in various ways, no matter what. I, of course, was the only exception to that rule.

I'd born witness to that rage on several occasions, much to my amusement. Once, a boy visiting from the Karter Char district, who had, unfortunately for him, not been properly informed on how best to act around my brother, said or did something that pissed Assef off. Honestly, I forget what exactly he did. What I do remember, however, is how Assef's eyes shifted from normal to predator mode in a split second, and how he'd beaten that kid so badly he wound up unconscious. I still recall watching that with awe, completely and totally fascinated by just how powerful my brother seemed in that moment. That level of control, it was... I was enthralled by him.

My lips twitched upwards at the memory. As more and more people passed by, I continued to stare at them. Fearful kids who scurried past, eager to get away from us. Blissful and happy kids who laughed and played regardless, unknowing or uncaring of the fact that they were in the same vicinity as two people who would happily rip the flesh from their bones. I fixed some of them with a menacing stare, for no other reason but to see how they might react. Fear was such an intriguing emotion, was it not? How easily it can be implemented, deep in a person's very core.

Noticing what I was doing, Assef placed a hand on my back, and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "I think we're making an impression, _Liebchen_ ," he said, inclining his head back to where those boys had once been. I could sense the mirth in his voice. He patted the front pocket of his jeans. "Would you like to take a spur of the moment Just Because?"

Now, I should probably explain, to those not in the know, what a Just Because is. To put it bluntly, it was a sibling bonding exercise that Assef and I came up with together, something that we'd started doing when we were kids. The basic premise of a Just Because was this:

Assef and I would search the streets, looking at the kids around us and mentally evaluating them, one by one. We'd talk about which ones would make a good target, and which ones wouldn't. Which ones would give us some entertainment and which would just be boring, unworthy. Those who gave off entertainment vibes were always the ones who won this lucky draw, of course. Once we'd found the perfect victim, we'd stalk them, just barely out of sight, hidden enough so that they didn't notice us, but drawing just enough attention to ourselves that they knew they were being followed.

We'd draw them away from the crowd, forcing them to segregate themselves from others. That part took the longest of any Just Because. It was imperative to get that right, otherwise, the rest of the game would be all for naught. Once we had finally gotten our new "friend" to the point where they were completely, totally, and utterly isolated from everyone around them — then... _then_ we chased them down. We always gave them a good head start. The illusion of escape, the illusion of hope. We always dashed it, squashed it like we squashed their pathetic bodies under our feet.

This person always ended up being on the receiving end of a vicious and gruesome beating, delivered with joyful gusto by my brother and I. Assef pummeled them with his brass knuckles and I stomped on their pained, broken bodies, thrilled by their cries of pain and misery. It was an adrenaline rush, heart-pounding, hair standing up on the back of your neck type of thrill. The reason that we called it a Just Because was, well, there was no rhyme or reason for us to do this. These unfortunate people were not enemies of ours, nor had they (usually) done anything to deserve our ire. They just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just happened to be around when Assef and I wanted to beat somebody up.

The idea of taking a Just Because made my heart skip a beat. It was one of my favorite ways to spend time with Assef, perhaps, one could argue, my _most_ favorite way to spend time with him. All the same, today, I was hungry, and not much feeling the whole idea of chasing down a victim, fun as it might have been. I just wanted to have a relaxing, calm afternoon with my brother.

"I'm not feeling it today, Assef," I said, shaking my head. "It, well, it doesn't seem like the day for that. Maybe some other time?" I squeezed his hand in my own, smiling up at him. "I'd just like to have a calm, relaxing lunch and then take a walk around the market."

Assef nodded. "Alright," he said. He removed his hand from the pocket of his jeans, and wrapped it around my shoulder, drawing me in close as we walked. "But you know, the offer is always there if you ever do change your mind."

Finally, we reached the small cafe that I loved so much. Seeing the sign hanging above the door-frame, I gave a little exhale of joy. I couldn't wait to get in there, and eat. The food served here was second-to-one, and I just knew my brother wasn't lying when he told me he had more than enough money to treat us both. We walked up to the doors and Assef pushed them open, holding them so that I could enter first. I did so with a polite incline of my head. "Tashakor," I told him. Before he could respond, a short, middle-aged woman with graying hair approached us.

This was Belourine, the owner of the cafe. She'd inherited it from her mother, I believe, and had been working there ever since. She was a perpetually happy woman, always smiling, always with a kind word to say about every one of her patrons. How in the world a person could be that happy was utterly beyond me, though I suppose when one works with people 24/7, one has to keep a professional and friendly demeanor. No doubt that it would drive me stir crazy, though. Hence why I try to avoid people when I can, with the obvious exception of the wondrous human being stood next to me, of course.

Belourine's smile widened as she neared us. She looked down at me with an almost grandmotherly look in her eye. "Well, if it's not the most darling little girl in all of Kabul," she cooed, placing her hands on my shoulders. For a second, I wondered if she meant to hug me, which I sure as all fuck would not have been happy with, but she didn't. She just kept on grinning. "Let me guess, Saria, are you here for some of your Khala Belourine's yummy Aushak?"

_Khala Belourine._ Oh, how I found myself boiling at her sugary machinations. You see, it was a common thing here, to refer to men one didn't know as "kaka" or "uncle" and to refer to women as "khala" or "aunt". Belourine was really trying to ingratiate herself into my life. To her, I was a gem, a diamond in the rough. An vision of innocence and purity, no doubt someone that she wished could be her very own child. Too bad I would never, ever feel anything but the deepest contempt for her.

"I..." I began, looking down at my feet. I wanted to give off the impression of timidity. That I had been "overcome with a case of 'the shy'" as the saying goes. I chewed on my lip, and then looked up at my brother, internally pleading with him to get this woman away from me. "Uh, yeah, that... that sounds really nice, thank you." I didn't bother using her preferred term of address; I would not go so far when it came to placating her.

And just as he always does, my Assef came to the rescue. He gave Belourine his brightest, most charming smile. "You must be a mind-reader," he quipped, and Belourine laughed. "That sounds like a wonderful idea." Assef then glanced down at me, as I retreated so I was half-hiding behind him, peeking my head out with nervous, wide eyes. "Ah, and please, do forgive my sister if she's not up to talking much. She's feeling a little bit shy today, what with the crowds and all."

I bristled at the thought of people, even Belourine, seeing me as this pathetic waif who couldn't even handle some people being around. But all the same, I knew the cover story was merely Assef's way of getting this stupid bitch to leave us both alone, so I couldn't blame him for that. Belourine looked at me, again, opening her mouth as though she wanted to make another comment, but thought better of it. She just nodded, and lead us over to a table. Once we'd were seated, and she'd written down our order, she walked away — finally — singing an old, pitchy tune under her breath.

Watching Belourine leave, I pulled a face in her direction, my upper lip curling in total disdain. "Stupid, grinning whore," I said aloud. Of course, it need not be said that I was speaking in German. Assef and I often spoke in our mother's native tongue, because it was a connection to a heritage that we both were very proud of. And, of course, because the amount of Afghans here who spoke that language was slim to none. Which was a good thing when we needed to speak privately.

Assef rolled his eyes, laughing. "She loves you, _Liebchen_ , you know that."

Scoffing, I drummed my fingers on my thigh, glancing towards the kitchens were I knew Belourine had gone. "Of course she does, brother. Everyone loves me." I faced my brother once again. "Even if that feeling is in no way reciprocated." I paused, tilting my head to one side. "But... you see how she talks to me? Like I'm a fucking two-year-old. Would that I could boil her face in scalding water, I wonder if she'd be as enamored with me then?"

I could tell that Assef was going to say something else, but before he could, we were interrupted, by the very woman that we were talking about. She held a tray with two plates of Aushak — a ravioli type dish — on them, as well as two glasses of juice. She placed the items down in front of us, then stood, for another moment, as though she expected us to invite her to sit and eat, too. Assef just nodded in thanks, then gestured for me to begin eating. Belourine turned, and walked away. I sighed in relief that this would be the last time that I'd have to speak to her today.

"Well, dig in, sister," Assef told me.

Picking up my knife and fork, I did just that. "Thank you," I said, gesturing to the plate. "For treating me to lunch, for taking me out today. For... for all of it." They were words that I meant with all of my heart. Nobody but Assef would have the decency to care enough to spoil me like that. Nobody else would have thought about it. He always found little ways to make my life brighter, ways to put a smile on my face. I reached across the table, placed my hand on his, and grinned. "Thank you," I said again.

Assef squeezed my hand, then pulled away, as he began to eat his own food. "Anytime, Sar, you know that."

We ate our meal in peace, a comfortable silence between us. Our conversations remained secret, in German, as we casually talked about one topic or another. Swapping stories and making each other laugh with inside jokes as only siblings as close as he and I could. There was nowhere in the world that I would rather have been, regardless of how annoyed I may have been with Belourine's earlier actions. Spending time with my Assef made even facing the most irritating people worth it.

About half-an-hour later, we'd finished our meal. Assef pulled some coins from the bag in his pocket, placing them down on the table. He motioned for Belourine to come over, and when she did, he pushed the coins her way. "That was splendid, as always," he complimented. "Those coins should more than foot the bill, and please, keep the change, consider it a well-deserved tip." He pushed back his chair, motioning for me to do the same. We stood, together, and made our way out of the cafe, while Belourine counted the money that we had left her.

"Enough for a tip?" I questioned, as we stepped outside into the fresh air once more. "Really?"

Assef shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Might even have short-changed her, _Liebchen_. I don't much care, she can stick those coins up her ass, it makes no odds to me." He paused, and reached for the money bag once again. "But... on the subject of money..." I watched as my brother too some out some Rupia, far more than what he had given to Belourine. He placed the coins in my open palm. "This is for you. Go and find yourself something in the market. I'll be—" he gestured to the streets around him "— well, I'll be around here, if you need me. I'll meet you back in about an hour or so and we can head home then. Sound good?"

I nodded. "Thank you, brother. I truly do appreciate it."

With those parting words, and my Assef's nod of approval, I was off — meandering off through the streets, looking here and there for something to buy. I slipped the Rupias into the pocket of my dress, not wanting them to fall out of my hand. I glanced at the stands, pausing here and there, wondering if there was anything that may catch my eye. From dolls, to soccer balls, to tennis paddles, to those who sold Americanized products; no doubt haggling them for more than the original price. Of course. American products were a sign of wealth here, hence why my family owned so many of them. I looked at a silver watch, with a gold rimmed face. It looked expensive as all hell, and I wondered if I'd have enough, despite the money Assef had given me.

_Probably too damn expensive anyway,_ I told myself, rolling my eyes, _not that it looks like much fun. Probably the sort of item I could charm Mahmood and Tanya into buying for me, if all really does come to all. No point in wasting the money my brother gave to me._

With that, I turned my attention from the watch, and as I turned my back on that stand, I came face to face with an item that I just knew I had to have. It was a small, green and black kite. Kite flying was a national pastime in Afghanistan — children here flew kites as easily as those in other lands kicked a ball. These kites were most often made by an old man named Saifo, one of the best kite makers in the country. I grinned, crossing over the street and approached the seller. "Excuse me, agha?" I asked, in my most innocent voice.

The man looked down at me. He was thin, and balding. His smile was unsettling, a half-leer. I chewed on the inside of my finger, almost nervous to continue talking. "Uhm... that green and black kite there..." I pointed to it, "is that one of Saifo jan's kites?"

"Ah, this one?" The seller took the kite down, held it out in front of me. "Why yes, it is. He made it a week or so ago, but nobody has come to buy it." Placing the kite down, he took out a small notebook and flicked through it. "Let me check this for you, the price. Hmm, let's see, let's see. Just give me a moment, please."

I tapped my foot against the ground, the Rupia jostling in my pocket. My patience was starting to wear a little bit thin, I won't lie. If this man didn't hurry it up and tell me the price, well then, I would have to take the initiative to go and buy something else, regardless of how much I may have wanted that kite. I nonchalantly scratched my elbow, awaiting his response. Oh, hurry it up! I thought, watching him flick through the notebook pages.

Finally, the man reached the correct page. He smiled down at me, telling me the price of the kite and holding the notebook out to me so that I could see for myself. As if I might have entertained the possibility that he was lying? Either way, I had more than enough money to afford that kite. I paid, thanked the man with my most charming smile, and took the kite from him. It was lightweight, and not any trouble for me to carry. With my new purchase tucked safely under my arm, I made way down the street once more.

Now, I ought to have gone back to Assef by now. We could have gone home and I could have flown my kite in the back garden. To this day, I often wonder how my life would have changed if I had. But I didn't. Quite frankly, I wanted to stay out for a little longer. I wanted to test my new purchase out here and now. And I knew just the place in which to do so!

There was a small patch of land just down the road, a barracks that was largely deserted. I'd crossed over this way with Assef several times, and so could easily find my way around without getting lost. I knew that, with the market itself being so packed, the barracks would no doubt be empty, or at least, I hoped so. I could have a bit of privacy there, spend some time flying my new kite before I went to meet up with my brother again. In my mind, it sounded like the perfect plan. Oh, if only I had known!

I walked down to the barracks, kite in hand. Telling my brother where I was never actually crossed my mind; I was more than certain that Assef would be able to find me should he need to. Besides, I didn't plan on being gone for too long, anyway. Twenty minutes, tops, that's what I promised myself. I casually made my way up to an old, somewhat crumbling wall. Someone of lesser willpower may have been a bit nervous to sit upon it, but I didn't even think of such things. I merely reached up to place the kite on the wall, and then began the struggle to get up there myself.

Oh, and what a struggle it was. Getting that kite up there was enough of an issue, let me tell you, and I'd just barely managed that. Pulling my tiny, chidlike frame all the way up onto that wall was going to require using my most inner core muscles. I placed both hands on top of the wall, just about reaching, and then took a deep breath. Counting to three, I hoisted myself up. For a second, I hung there, legs dangling, not doubt looking more than ridiculous, but I soon gathered myself and, using my feet as grips - no doubt scraping the leather on my shoes, but whatever - I managed to pull myself onto the wall.

There I sat, leaning back, admiring the view before me. It was beautiful, looking at everything from this height. If I wanted to, I could have basked in the gentle glow of the sun for the rest of the evening. Still, I'd come here for a reason, and I wanted to make my time here worth it. So, with that thought in mind, I began to unravel the string on my kite.

A fun little fact about kites here in Afghanistan, they were coated with a thin layer of glass and glue. Made them very sharp, far sharper than kites in other places would be, and for good reason. The annual Kite Fighting Tournament that took place every winter was built on one simple premise: fly your kite, cut down your opponents kite using your string, and, most importantly of all, be the last one standing. These competitions were the talk of the town, and, while I had never participated in one myself, I'd witnessed more than enough in my life to know about kites and how they worked. And I knew that I would have to be careful when unravelling this string. I was lucky that I'd chosen to wear gloves on this day, it would save me from having cuts on my fingertips.

As I sat there, carefully fidgeting with the spool on my kite, trying to pull out the string, I heard a high, whiny, male voice say; "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Startled that anyone would have the audacity to interrupt me here, I looked up, and what I saw, it made my blood boil. There, strutting his way down the embankment, hands on his hips, chin jutted out in disdain and lips curled in a scowl, was Farsef Sajihdi. Farsef Sajihdi was a boy from my neighbourhood, who lived in the Northern part of the city. He had short, dark hair, hazel eyes and was skinny to the point that I questioned if it were unhealthy. What he lacked in muscle mass, however, he tried every second to make up for with his whiny, annoying attitude. He was always ready to pick a fight, regardless of whether or not this was with someone who he couldn't take on, or not. His older brother, Aarash, was in the same class as Assef in school, and from what I'd been told, he was more of the same.

Now, Farsef was standing in front of me, arms aloft, a cross between a leering grin and a scowl on his face. I wished I could get away, that I could jump from this wall and run, but I couldn't. I was trapped. Trapped like a poor, defenceless antelope cornered by a whinging lion. All I could do was to just hope I could turn the tables on him. I returned his sneer with one of my own. "What do you want, Farsef?"

"Oh, I was just, you know, hanging out," he said, in a tone that made it clear that he was doing nothing of the sort. "I saw you down here and I figured that I might say hi. You don't got a problem with that, do ya, Saria?"

Someone else might have let this go, may have just said they had no problems and hoped that Farsef would continue on his merry way. I, however, was not this type of person. It was clear that Farsef had come here looking for an argument, and well, that was just what he was going to get. "Uh, yeah, I do have a problem with that. I have a very big problem with it, actually. Did you not think that maybe, just maybe, I might like to be left in peace? If I wanted to be annoyed, there's a whole market full of people who could do that for me."

Farsef's eyes flickered. I could tell that he was not expecting that reaction. Surely, he would have been better off had I just deferred to him, as he was expecting. But now, I'd thrown back a verbal punch, and it was down to him to make the next move. "Yeah, don't play fucking coy with me, girl," he snarled. "I'm not in the mood for your silly, little games."

"As I'm in even less of a mood for yours," I shot back. "So, how about you do us both a favour and piss off, yeah? I was here before you and quite frankly, I don't need you stinking up the place. Go on." I motioned with my hand for him to leave, gesturing out in front of me as I straightened up, tall as I could, ensuring I looked down on this boy - literally - with every possible opportunity.

But leave, he did not. Instead, he took a step closer to me. He pointed to the kite that I had set upon the wall. "Where'd you get that?" I ignored him, not even bothering to offer him an answer to his question. I just wanted him to leave now. Farsef cleared his throat. "Hey, answer me when I ask you a question!" he snapped, in an awfully whiny tone. "Where'd you get that kite?"

"Market," I responded, inclining my head in that direction. I turned from him, and continued to fixate on my kite. "So, if you'd like to go and buy one of your own, well then, please, by all means. Don't let me stop you."

"Why would I do that when I could just take the one you have?" Farsef asked. I stared at him, completely and utterly bewildered by his insolence. Did this... did this fucking brat really just say that? Did he really just insinuate that he was going to take this kite - _my_ kite - for himself? I almost had to laugh at the complete audacity of this piece of shit. I really did.

I scoffed. "Yeah, that's not happening. Now, are you going to fuck off by yourself or do you want me to make you?" When Farsef didn't respond, I turned from him and continued to unravel the string on my kite. I began to hum under my breath, now completely ignoring Farsef. He would leave eventually, of that I was sure. He'd leave and I wouldn't have to deal with him. Right?

Farsef wasn't having any of it, though. He stomped his foot on the ground. "Give me that kite, Saria." When I didn't respond, he tried again. "Give it to me! Give me the damn kite!" With that said, and no answer from yours truly, he took another lunging step forward, and grabbed the spool from my hands. I was not expecting that, and in my shock, almost lost my grip on it. But I managed to keep a hold of it, and thus began a tug-of-war between Farsef and I. He tugged the spool towards him, I tugged it back to me. He pulled, I pushed. We were locked in this battle, each one craving to be the victor. Finally, Farsef's rage built to a crescendo that he could no longer handle, and he did something that he no doubt regretted with every fibre of his bones, for the rest of his short life.

With a cry of "you fucking bitch!" he reached forward, past the kite spool, and grabbed me by the arm. If I had not been expecting his earlier outburst, I had been expecting this one even less. I cried out in surprise, my eyes widening. Farsef tugged on me, hard. Letting out a vocalization that was both shock and rage, I overbalanced and went tumbling from the wall. Down I went, throwing my hands out in an attempt to catch my fall. I screamed as I hit the ground. My stomach, chest and knees hit the dirt with a loud thump. I almost chipped a tooth when my jaw collided with the dirt.

There I lay, utterly stunned. I couldn't believe that Farsef had just had the audacity to physically assault me. He'd gone from verbally berating me, and being irritating, to now laying his hands upon me. White hot pain seared itself through my body, all I could do was just lay there and watch as Farsef picked up my kite, which had fallen when I did, and begin to walk off with it in hand. I wanted to jump up and take it from him, but I couldn't find the strength in me to do so. But my luck soon changed, fortune smiled upon me again, as I heard the thunder of storming footsteps and looked up to see someone else coming onto the scene. Farsef's countenance became one of terror. Three guesses as to who it was.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO TO MY SISTER?!"

Assef was storming towards us, his face contorted with unbridled fury. Farsef backed away, hands raised in front of him, trying to splutter out a coherent word, to say something, anything, in his own defence. There was nothing that he could do, though. Assef had just seen his beloved Saria lying on the dirt, clearly in pain, clearly having been the victim of some awful maltreatment, and he was going to enact vengeance upon the perpetrator.

Throwing his hands out in front of him, my brother shoved Farsef, hard. The boy was in no way able to stand his ground against Assef, and, fell backwards, clear onto his ass. The kite fell out of his hands and rolled into a puddle some feet away. Turning away from him now, Assef made his way back over to me. His countenance became softer, more tender. He bent down, taking me under the arm and lifting me back to my feet. He looked me up and down, his eyes flickering with several emotions. Sympathy, and anger, all rolled into one. "Sister," he breathed.

I looked down at myself. Now standing, I could see the full extent of the damage that Farsef's stupidity had caused. My dress was muddied, torn in various places on the skirt, the hem ripped. The gloves had been pushed up my hands, somewhat, and they were covered in tiny gashes. Both of my arms were mottled with yellow bruising that would no doubt turn various shades of green and blue over time. But the worst injury that I had suffered by far was the one to my knee.

It had been cut when I hit the ground, and now, a large gash was forming, blood tricking down my leg and into my white socks, drip, drip, dripping onto my shoes. I gaped, unable to believe that this had happened to me. Tears of frustration and pain welled up in my eyes. Assef placed a gentle hand on my cheek, and tilted my head so that I was looking at him in the eye. "Saria," he whispered, a gentle tone to his voice, clearly inquiring after what had been done to me.

Raising a trembling finger, I pointed to where Farsef lay in the dirt. "I... I bought a kite with the money you gave me, and I went to sit on the wall, there," I told my brother, gesturing to it. Assef nodded, encouraging me to continue. Which I did. "And Farsef came over, just right up to me, and started being a little prick. So I told him where to stick it, and.. and then he tried to tug the kite from me. So I tugged it back and then grabbed my arm and just... just threw me right off the damn wall. I mean, look at me, Assef! You see what he's done to me?!"

Assef clenched his jaw. He stepped away from me, and looked back to Farsef. The fucking asshole was now trying slink away quietly into the distance, tiptoeing away, with my kite under his arm, eyeing up my brother like he was some caged animal ready to strike. He hadn't said a word, hadn't even tried to apologise or explain himself, not that any explanation would have been a good one. Did he really, truly think that he could just get away with this? That there would be no repercussions for attacking me?

That pissed me off. What right did he have to just walk away? The pain in my body slowly evaporated away, forming now into pure, unbridled rage. I needed vengeance, I needed to teach this insolent brat a lesson! From the look in my Assef's eyes, I could tell that he felt the same way. We nodded at one another, and then, with snarls of anger, we charged.

The only noise that came from Farsef's mouth was a gasp of terror, as my brother threw himself full force onto him, knocking him back onto the ground. With one hand, Assef caught the edges of the boy's coat and slammed his head into the ground, over and over again. With the other hand, he fished around in his pocket until he found exactly what he was looking for. I grinned. His stainless steel brass knuckles glistened as he slipped them onto his hand.

There was sickening thud of metal on flesh, and a cry of pain. Assef had just punched Farsef right in the face. Blood ran down his noise, and I'm pretty sure I heard a most satisfying crunching sound. My brother continued to pummel him, hitting every square inch that he could find. I watched with morbid fascination, laughter peeling from my lips, bouncing, joyfully egging Assef on. "That's it, brother! Break his fucking jaw!"

After five minutes or so, Assef turned to me. He looked apologetic, and beckoned me closer to him. "How sorry I am, my darling sister," he said, shaking his head, "here I am, having my fun and not giving a second thought to you, Farsef's actual victim." He aimed a well placed kick at Farsef's chest, eliciting another pain-filled cry. "Forgive me, _Liebchen_ , I've been caught up in the moment. Come here, let's see you punish him too, hmm?"

Well, I certainly didn't need to be told twice. I rushed towards Farsef. I may not have been wearing brass knuckles, but I knew how to hit, and I knew how to kick, which is what I did. Aiming blow after blow down on him. Stomping on his head, punching his chest, kicking him in the mouth. My curls hung around my face, tangled, but I didn't give a shit about that. All that I was focused on now was vengeance, making Farsef spill his own blood for the blood he had cost me.

At one point, Farsef managed to scramble away from us. He retched, rocking back and forth. It was all that he could do to not collapse. With no strength left, he fell to his knees, holding his clasped hands out in front of him, a begging gesture. "Please!" he exclaimed, mucus and blood flowing from his nose, tears saturating his cheeks. He whimpered, pathetically. "Please, please... no more. No more... I can't take it... Please... I just want to go home... I just want to go home... Please..."

His words caught me by surprise. He wanted to go home? Had I not made that same suggestion to him, just minutes earlier? Had I not told him to go away and leave me alone? None of this would be happening if he just abided by my earlier warnings, and yet here he was, with the audacity to beg for mercy. Who, just who the fuck did he think he was? Mercy? There would be none of that. If anything, his words only spurred me into a further rage. I screamed and made to lunge for him again, but Assef got there before me.

He tugged on Farsef's jacket, hauling the boy upright so that they were almost level. It was only his grip on Farsef that stopped him from keeling over, it looked like. Assef glanced at me, then back to Farsef. He leaned down and started to violently tug on his left ear. Farsef screamed, and my brother bent his head down, doing something that I, from this angle, couldn't quite see. What I do know is that Farsef emitted a noise that I had never heard anyone, human or animal, make before. He tried to push Assef away from him, but it was to no avail.

Assef straightened back up. There was something in his mouth, though I couldn't quite see what it was. He loosened his grip on Farsef, and next thing I knew, the little cunt had fallen onto his side, clutching his head and staring up at Assef with a look that I can only describe as pure terror. His eyes were wide as saucers, tears pooling on his blood-stained cheeks. He mouthed the words, "What...?" over and over again.

"Since you think it's acceptable to take something that belongs to my sister," Assef began, taking something from his mouth, "why should I not return the favour and take something of yours?" He held up what he was talking about, and my eyes widened with shock. It was Farsef's ear!

Yes, you read that right, and no, I am not making this up. Farsef's right ear was in my brother's hand, and the rest of Farsef was not attached to it. It took a second for this, and what it meant, to register with me, but when it did, I couldn't believe it. Assef had just... bitten somebody's ear off! Had just mutilated them. This was beyond anything that he had ever done before, beyond any normal beating, and he had done it for me. To defend my honour! I wanted nothing more than to embrace him and express my deepest of gratitude, but I knew that now was the time to remain where I was and watch this whole incident unfold.

To a "normal" child, this would have been disgusting and wrong. Indeed, if I were in any way the person I made myself out to be, then I too would have been abhorred by this sight. Alas, to me, this was a thrill. Another expression of my dearest brother's love for me. Assef stepped over Farsef and tossed his ear. It landed in a muddy gutter some feet away. Farsef crawled to the gutter to fish out his ear. Assef spat on the dirt where he'd been laying. "Now, stay the fuck away from my Saria or that'll look like a gentle ear twisting compared to what I'll do to you next."

I giggled. Assef turned back to face me. "Yeah, _Liebchen_ , I know that sounded like a pun, but I didn't mean..." He raised his hands in defence, and made his way back towards me. By now, the adrenaline was slowly starting to wear off. The pain in my little body now more pronounced. I swayed from left to right, more blood dripping from the wound in my knee. Assef looked down at me. "Come here, Saria, let me look at you."

He pulled me into a quick embrace, then looked at my injuries once again. "They look superficial, at least," he mused. "No scars, but you'll no doubt have some nasty bruising for some time. I'll put some cream on them when we get home, and we'll see about bandaging up that knee of yours. We'll stay indoors for the next few days, just while you heal."

I nodded. That did make sense. "I think I've had enough fun to tide me over for this weekend, Assef," I said, looking back at Farsef, who was still crawling in the gutter, trying to find his ear.

Assef took my hand in his. "Okay, then, let's..." He paused. "Oh, wait, Saria. Your kite? Do you still want it?"

Looking at the offending object, I saw that it had taken far more damage in the brawl with Farsef than I'd originally anticipated. It was now torn, the spool broken, the string all tangled up in knots. I shook my head. "It's too broken," I said, then, feeling guilty, added, "I'm sorry, Assef jan. I didn't mean to waste your money. I-"

"Hey now," Assef cut across me, tenderly, drawing me in for a one-armed embrace. "None of that, sister. It's not _technically_ my money, is it? Nothing to feel bad over, if you don't want it, you don't want it. Besides, I think the fun you and I just had counts for a million kites, wouldn't you?" I nodded, and he pressed a kiss to the top of my head, then began to lead me down the road. "Alright then, now let's go home, and I'll see to it that your injuries get treated, okay, Sar?"

We walked away, taking a different path from the one we had come, a path hidden from the main streets that meant we did not have to traverse the market in order to get home. As we did so, I stole another glance back at Farsef, still hunched over the gutter, fumbling around for his ear. Would he be able to get to the hospital in time for that to be fixed, I wondered? Or would he remain half-deaf for the rest of his miserable life? The answer, I realised, meant nothing to me.

Farsef's pain, his suffering, it meant nothing to me. It was but another teachable moment, both for him and I. I now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the lengths that my Assef would go to for me, and that filled me with a renewed sense of vigour. Farsef had learned a hard lesson about fucking around with the Ahmed siblings, and if mutilation was to be his punishment, then so be it.

Say what you will, but in my mind, he got what he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate everyone who takes the time to look through this story and give it the time of day. You all mean a lot to me. In the next chapter, Saria is back in Adia's house, for another play-date, and her true manipulations of the girl will begin. Look for that coming along very soon.
> 
> Thank you again!


	5. Manipulating Adia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Assef took Saria out for lunch. She bought herself a new kite with the money he gave to her, but was accosted by Farsef, a boy from the neighbourhood. Assef was quick to come to his sister's defence, and a brawl ensued that culminated in Farsef losing an ear. Now, as time has passed, we find Saria spending more time with her new friend, Adia...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reads this story. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to look at what I've written. Please do feel free to get in contact if you wish to, though, of course, you don't have to. There is a lot to get through in this story, with many twists and turns along the way that I hope will be enjoyable and as fun for everybody else as they are for me.
> 
> I do not own The Kite Runner or any of its characters, plot points, etc. I'm just showcasing my love for it with this story that has given me such joy and meaning in my life.
> 
> Thank you again! And without further ado, please enjoy this next glimpse into Saria's mind.

Adia and I sat on her bed, across from one another. Despite it being a winter's day, it was still somewhat muggy and warm, so she'd opened the window to let a bit of air in. We'd both kicked our shoes off, and tossed them in a pile in the corner of her room. Normally, were this my own home, I would have made sure to place my shoes neatly in the closet, and ensure that any guests of mine had a place in which to put theirs, but this was not my home, and Adia seemed to care little for tidiness, so why should I? Now, here we were, Adia with her legs crossed underneath her, and I, tucking one foot under myself while the other dangled off the edge of the bed.

A few days or so had passed since the incident with Farsef. I can't be too sure on the exact date of these events, I am writing these memoirs years after the fact, after all. What I do know is that Mahmood and Tanya had long since returned from their business trip - wherever the hell that was. They'd both been in a good mood when they came back, which I took to mean that everything had run smoothly. That was good. Anything that made my parents happy and kept them from taking potential bad moods out on my brother or I was a welcome change, in my book.

The moment they'd come back, Mahmood had been adamant about contacting Javid and Faraya, to organise this little play-date between Adia and I. The man had barely dropped his suitcase in the front door before he was phoning up the Kalahari's. I remember leaning against the door to his study, eavesdropping on his conversation. Half of which I didn't quite understand - just some business related crap, none of which meant anything for me. It was only that I heard my name that I'd perked up, now intrigued, and more than a little apprehensive. What was he talking about me for? What had I done now? _Had_ I done anything? I didn't think so, but God only knows with my father. His good mood could turn on a time. I remember the anxious feeling of trying to not get caught eavesdropping, while also desperately trying to learn what he was talking about, and what it could have to do with me.

Fortunately, though, Mahmood had only been asking if I could go up to the Kalahari's home for a few hours, to spend some time with Adia. They spoke back and forth, and after a little bit of organisation, the date had been set. This morning, I'd dressed in one of my clean, red-and-blue polka dot dresses, and been given the arduous task of sitting still while Tanya brushed my hair into pigtails and tied ribbons on either end. Yeah, yeah, I could have brushed my own hair, but today I would be spending time with guests, and heaven forbid that "mommy dearest" didn't make me look absolutely perfect.

Right before we'd gotten into the car, Tanya had knelt before me, hands on my own, and given me a lecture about how to behave. Be polite, eat the food given to you, offer to help whenever you can, and show your elders the respect that they deserve. The same bullshit, over and over. Every damn time, every time that I went anywhere, it was always the same. I had no choice but to nod along and promise her that I would "act in the way that I have been raised to". That had satisfied her, and she nodded to my father, who lead me out to the car and drove me the few streets to the Kalahari house.

Couldn't have me walk there by myself, could we? For one, it may have looked bad on my father's part to have his little girl walking alone to a friend's house - at least, without an older figure there with her. I almost wanted to ask if Assef could walk me over there, but I knew that the answer would be no. Mahmood's reasoning would no doubt be that he wanted to talk to the Kalahari's himself, and, though he wouldn't have said it, the underlying thought would be there: that Assef would have just taken me somewhere else and not bothered bringing me round to Adia's.

A fair assumption to make, no doubt, but we couldn't have that. Not when my friendship with the precocious child was of such importance to Mahmood and Tanya. They needed to keep the Kalahari's on-side, and what better way to do that than to have their socially inept daughter become friends with Javid and Faraya's sweet little girl? To some degree, I wondered if my friendship with Adia was as much of a game to them as it was for me? Was she naught but a pawn in all of our eyes, no more than a means to an end?

Still, cultivating friendships between the Ahmeds and the Kalaharis would only serve us all, in one way or another. Mahmood and Tanya had even tried to entice Assef into befriending Masood, dropping hints at tea time about how he should "invite that nice boy round for a game of volleyball". That hadn't gotten a reaction, aside from a raise of the eyebrows on my brother's part, so they'd next tried to oh-so-casually suggest that he might consider taking Masood with him when he spent time with Wali and Kamal, as though the boy was some unfortunate dog that Assef needed take for regular walks.

I'm sure that you can just imagine how brilliantly that conversation went. Lo, how sometimes I envied my Assef for his ability to so easily get our parents off of his back. The idea of him being friends with Masood was dropped before it even came to fruition, and now, it was I who faced the task of cultivating this relationship with Adia. Not that I minded... at least, not all that much. I did yearn to claim the girl as my own, after all.

"It won't fit!"

I was brought out of my thoughts by the voice of that same girl. Adia was groaning in frustration, holding aloft a piece of the jigsaw that we were attempting to complete. The puzzle was one of the local zoo in our area, with brightly coloured animals, lions, reptiles, zebras, monkeys - you name it, this had it. Adia's tiny fingers gripped the edges of a yellow puzzle piece, no doubt a lion's mane or something akin to that. She tried to force it into the hole, it didn't work. She tried again, it still didn't work. Her lips twisted in frustration.

The puzzle was one that was clearly meant for kids far younger than she and I. That was obvious from how large the pieces were, how shiny it was, and, the most glaring evidence, the perpetual looks of happiness on the animal's faces. Oh, and the fact that they were all locked in an embrace of some kind or another. My memories of actually visiting the zoo are hazy at best, but from what I do know, lions and zebras are not in the habit of cuddling up to one another. It was almost laughable how the creator of this little puzzle had thrown all sense and understanding about the animal kingdom out of the window, in order to enforce this false narrative into the minds of naive children.

Adia tried again to fit the puzzle piece into the right hole. She made a small, barely audible groan, and looked about ready to toss the whole jigsaw to the ground. Not that I would have blamed her, really. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned down so that her nose was almost touching the board. "It won't fit," she repeated, "I'm trying to make it fit, Saria, but it just... it just keeps getting stuck. And we only have a few more pieces left to go, I-"

"Let me see that," I told her. She extended the piece out to me, and I took it from her, turning it over in my mind. Just as I suspected, the lion's mane. Up close, I could tell that the yellow was faded, and the paint had begun to be chipped away, but it was still easy to see what it was meant to be. I attempted to fit the piece into the slot that Adia had been looking at, but to no avail. I, being of superior intellect, was able to determine the cause of the problem with very little work.

I presented my findings to Adia. "Of course it's not working, silly, you're trying to fit it into the wrong hole." I gestured, holding the puzzle piece out for her to see. "The shades of yellow are different. Not... It's kinda hard to tell, exactly, but they are. I think this one goes..." A pause. My eyes darted from side to side, an attempt to find where this piece fit. "Ah, you see? It fits in here!" With that, I ceremoniously maneuvered the puzzle piece so that it was above the correct slot, and there, down it went, fitting like a glove.

The responding grin on Adia's face was edifying. She beamed at me with shimmering eyes of childlike gratitude. "Thank you, Saria," she said. "I always get stuck on that part, always. I'd never been able to figure out what the problem was. Thank you for helping me." For a second, it looked as though she were about to hug me, but she must have figured that would be a bad idea - and she probably didn't want to accidentally knock over the jigsaw by doing so. Still, her giddy smile was a clear example of how she felt in that moment.

Waving a dismissive hand, I shook off her thanks as though it was nothing. "Don't, don't even mention it. What's some help between friends, hmm?" She made a joyful, chirping noise when I called her my friend. It was almost like the noise a puppy makes when it sees its owner for the first time after work. The grin never left her face, and I contemplated the similarities between this puzzle and the friendship Adia and I were building.

Not only because of the image it was showing - though I did feel much like a deadly lion attempting to embrace a foolhardy zebra - but also because of what it, and my help to her, represented. Pieces coming together. Cracks being smoothed out. Much like this puzzle, Adia was cracked and broken. She was in desperate need of fixing, of someone to lift her up, restore the chipped paint, dedicate their energy and time into her. That was exactly what I intended on doing. When I was done with her, she would be as beautiful as this puzzle. Beautiful, obedient, devoted... and _mine_.

Adia stood from her bed. She placed her hands on either side of her hips and looked down at the now completed puzzle. "I'm gonna..." she began, tilting her head towards her study desk. "... put this over here."

I nodded, and she gingerly bent her knees so that she could lift the puzzle with ease. It wasn't heavy, per se, but her little frame shook as she carefully lifted it. Her tongue stuck out in concentration - she did not want this to fall. Not that I blamed her. I mean, much as I would have laughed if it had fallen to the ground, and messed up all of her hard work, part of that hard work was mine, too. And I did not want that gone to waste. I also did not want to have to redo the whole thing, which I knew Adia would have requested us to do if it fell apart.

Placing the jigsaw down onto her desk, Adia took a step back from it and looked down at our creation. She placed her clasped palms over her heart, bending her knees softly. "This is so beautiful," she whispered, the hint of a giggle eliciting from her lips. Her gaze remained fixated on the puzzle, looking it with an odd devotion in her eyes. "Thank you for helping me make it, Saria. It's even more special now, because I got to make it with a friend."

Her words took me aback. Had she really just said that? Had she really just said something so cheesy, a line that wouldn't have been out of place in a Hindi romance film? Did... was that how she saw me? Did she care that much for me already? I spluttered, unable to form a coherent response. Normally, I would've been able to formulate a reply easily, but I didn't know to respond to that. Did she want me to say something equally as charming? I quickly collected myself and extended a hand to Adia, beckoning her return to me.

"You're sweet to say that, Adia jan," I complimented. She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned her head against mine, taking my hand and playing with my fingertips. I didn't know how to deal with this, but, on some level, I was aware that pushing her off of me would cause issues. So, I took a leaf from my brother's book and did what he always did when I wanted physical closeness. I squeezed her hand, wrapped my arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head, with great tenderness and care. "I had a lot of fun making that, too. Thank you for giving me the chance to share this opportunity with you."

Adia gushed, cuddling up to me. "I love jigsaws," she said, happily. Her legs swung back and forth, she bounced up and down. "They're always such fun to make, and the pictures are so beautiful when they're completed. It's kinda like painting, 'cause you know what you're gonna get at the end but you still have to, to, work hard to make it happen." She lifted her head from off of my shoulder and giggled. "But this puzzle is extra special, you know why?" I didn't respond, but shrugged, a way of letting her know that I was still playing along with this little game. Adia leaned in to whisper into my ear. "'Cause my new friend Saria helped me make it."

The tone of her voice, the look in her eyes, the faint stutter that escaped as she spoke the words. They all reminded me of how those faithful religious people would act when they talked about God. There was a worshipful adoration to her speech, something that I had not ever heard in anyone's voice when speaking to me before. It was certainly not akin to how Assef and I spoke to each other - that was with unbridled, unadulterated, unconditional love, the love of equals, - but how Adia spoke of me was... it was almost as if she thought of me as a higher power. As if I were somebody for her to look up to, to want to emulate.

How... strange it was, to view myself through another's eyes. Adia saw me as her friend, someone to play with, someone to waste the lonely hours away with, someone upon who's shoulder she could cry when she needed it. Someone who was kind, good, fun and caring. How would she react if she knew my thoughts on her, I wondered? What would she think if the truth came out, that to me, Adia was but an experiment, my aim to twist and break her into obedience, through whatever means necessary?

But no, she wouldn't know that. It was like the Saria Ahmed that she knew and the Saria Ahmed that I truly was were two separate people, two souls fighting for dominance in the one body. Like my mask and my true self were completely different entities, and my mask was a tightrope of lies that I desperately sought with every footstep to remain on top of, because I knew, without a shadow of a doubt... that the truth was the only thing left to fall into.

I contemplated these thoughts, and more, when the door creaked open. My attention was drawn to Faraya, who stood in the door-frame with a motherly countenance. "Are you girls having fun?" she asked, her gaze focused on her daughter.

Adia nodded. "Oh yes, Mommy!" She got to her feet and took her mother by the hand, bringing her to the desk where the jigsaw puzzle we made rested. Her actions were strange to me; I would never in my life have thought to go dragging Tanya about like that, especially not when I had a guest round. I rather liked my freedom and not being lectured, thank you very much. But all Faraya did was laugh along with her daughter's antics and raise an exaggerated brow at me. Adia pointed to the jigsaw. "Look, Mommy! Look what we did!"

Faraya glanced down at the puzzle. She wrapped an arm around her daughter, hugging Adia to her side. "That's beautiful, my darling," she complimented. "I've been telling you to get that puzzle completed, and now you see why? What a beautiful picture." She then turned from Adia and looked at me, that same compassionate gaze in her eye. "And I'm guessing that Saria jan helped you, would I be correct in saying that?"

The question may not have been directed at me, I wasn't quite sure, but I decided to answer, regardless. I stood from the bed, dipping into a sweet curtsy. "Why yes, Khala Faraya. Adia and I made that together."

"Beautiful," Faraya repeated. She beckoned Adia and I towards the door. "Well, I just came up here to tell you both that lunch is ready, if you would like to wash up and come downstairs. Saria, I don't know if your parents are going to be making you dinner tonight, so I just made something light to tide you over before you go home." She smiled, extending a hand to me.

I made my way over to her. Shifting from one foot to the other, I decided to ask a question I knew my parents would expect from me. "Khala Faraya, I... Is there anything that I can do to help you?" I asked, "would you like me to lay the table, perhaps?" How ridiculous that I, a guest in this home, had to ask such questions. But that was what was expected of me. Tanya had told me to help out in any way I was told to, and to ask if I could "serve" the Kalahari's in any manner that they requested.

The irony here was that, if the roles were reversed and Adia had asked Tanya if she could help her, well, then, do you think I would have heard the end of it? No, no, I don't think so! Still, that was the hypocritical truth of my life, and there was little that I could do to prevent things from being the way they were. Faraya was a little taken aback by my statement. She reached out to place a tender hand on the back of my golden curls. "Oh, dear one, no. I have it all under control, you just come on down when you're washed up." She cupped the side of my face and looked down at me with a tender, loving gaze. "Thank you for offering to help, what a little darling you are."

With that, she turned and left the room. Adia trailed behind her, at her mother's heel. Faraya turned and beckoned her daughter into the washroom, gently chiding her to clean herself up. A giggle escaped from the child's lips and she disappeared into the washroom. I followed her, standing outside, waiting for my turn. When she was done, I slipped in after her, and cleaned my own hands and face, ensuring that I looked clean, pure, and perfect. Adia was waiting outside for me when I re-emerged, she took me by the hand and lead me down the stairs.

She was so eager to be with me, no matter what. We made our way into the kitchen, and Faraya gestured us into our seats. As I moved towards the table, I noticed something that gave me pause. Masood was sitting at the table, grinning at us. He waved, and Adia did so in return. But I, I couldn't bring myself to do the same. I was far, far too intrigued by him. He still looked as though he was under the weather. The bags under his eyes were even more pronounced, his skin sunken and sallow, his lips parched and chapped.

This was far beyond the simple cold or flu. At least, it most certainly seemed this way from my perspective. After all, "he has the flu" was the same excuse that Adia and her parents gave whenever someone asked about Masood. That excuse may have flown with Mahmood and Tanya, but I was of a far more intelligent calibre than they were, and I was smelling bullshit. After all, I have been sick with the flu as a child, and I have seen my brother taken ill with it, too. And, in truth, we had healed up within a few days or so. We never looked as though we were on death's door.

 _Whatever the fuck is wrong with him, he certainly shouldn't be sitting here,_ I thought, fixing Masood with a terse stare. _He should be kept away from the rest of us healthy people, he should be sequestered within his bedroom, quarantined until he heals or dies. In all good conscience, what are Faraya and Javid doing, letting him sit here?_

Still, I knew that I couldn't do much to prevent what had already happened. Short of telling Masood to leave, which could be considered "bullying" and get me into trouble, there was nothing that I could do but push these feelings to the back of my mind and just get this lunch over and done with. All I could do was hope for the best. I sat beside Adia, who grinned at me.

Faraya placed our lunches on the table in front of us. "Eat up, you three," she said, in that usually friendly tone of her. She was always in good spirits, humming under her breath as she meandered over to the sink and began to wash up the dishes. I, who was seated in the perfect spot to bear witness to this, was a little confused. Did they not have servants? That was what people hired Hazaras for, was it not? It was why my family had servants. That was why Hamilra existed. What was Faraya doing?

Adia elbowed me in the side. "Aren't you gonna start eating?" she asked, gesticulating towards my full plate. Not wanting to cause disquiet for the girl, I picked up my fork and began to eat the meal her mother had laid out. I must admit, Faraya was a good cook, a great cook, actually. Compliments were due, and I, being the angelic perfection that I was, knew that it was down to me to offer them.

I spoke up to Faraya. "Your cooking is incredible, Khala Faraya," I complimented. "This is some of the best food I've ever tasted."

She was not expecting that. She turned from where she was scrubbing grease off of a plate, and looked at me. She cooed. "Thank you, Saria, that means a lot, darling. I'm glad you think so. But..." she paused, a teasing smile forming on her lips, eyes sparkling with mirth. "But tell me, just between us, are you saying that my cooking is better than your mother's?"

In Faraya's eyes, this may have been a joke. Just some whimsical back and forth with her daughter's little friend. But for me, this was yet another instance in which I had to turn on my charm - dial it up to eleven, as the saying goes. It was imperative that I said the right thing, so as to not offend Faraya, and so as to not say something that might have been considered to be "dishonouring" my mother.

"Your cooking is different from my mama's," I told her honestly. "Both are equally as good, though." She seemed satisfied by my answer, turning back to the dishes once more. My words were true; Faraya's methods of cooking was different from how Tanya did so. Not that I knew anything about the ingredients she used, or the utensils, but... it was more than that. When Tanya cooked a meal, it was done because she had to. Because she didn't want her children to starve, and because, well, cooking for your family was the done thing. Her food was tasty, but there was no love behind it.

With Faraya, it was easy to tell that she did this as a labour of love. An example of the kindness in her heart, the compassion that she held for not only her own children, but for me, too. Strange as this may be to admit, but it made me wonder if this is what having a loving, caring mother was like. A mother who enjoyed doing things for her kids, and who liked spending time with them. A mother for whom the happiness and enjoyment of her brood was more important than being perfect, or "what the neighbours" think.

Continuing to eat, I tore my gaze away from Faraya and over to the table that I had bumped into during my last fateful visit to the Kalahari home. There was an empty space there, where the vase I'd broken used to be. I fixated on that spot, robotically spooning food into my mouth, taking note of the little circle of dust on that table. Had they even cleaned up while the vase rested there, I wondered? Or had they been so afraid to move it, afraid that it may break. If only they'd known what would happen, I'm sure they would have moved it into a safer place, and then, surely, we would not have had the disaster that we did.

It still amazed me, and does to this day, that Faraya was treating me with such gentle, open, warm and compassionate feelings, despite the pain that I caused her. Here she was, laughing and joking with me, treating me with the same respect and love that she bestowed upon her own children. Treating me, not as an unwanted guest in her home, but as a welcomed, beloved child that she valued just the same as the others in her household. This, you see, this was what forgiveness was. Not the "step out of line and we'll rescind the leniency we've bestowed upon you" that Mahmood and Tanya lived by, but pure, true, unadulterated compassion.

This was how a mother was supposed to be. How a _parent_ was supposed to act. All children made mistakes, did they not, and it was the duty of the parent to educate them, offer forgiveness and grace, and then move on. No holding grudges, no dangling their errors over their heads like a switch with which to beat them. No treating them like vile, disgusting cretins who should be executed for what they did. Just pure, warm, openness. A compassion that I, myself, would find difficult to bestow upon any person other than my beloved Assef.

Still, though I may not have felt much of my own care towards Faraya, I was grateful that she had extended such mercy upon me. Lunch went by without a hitch. As we placed our cutlery down, Adia got up from her seat. "Mommy, can Saria and I go and play in the garden? I wanna show her the swing-set that Daddy made for me on my special tree!"

Faraya didn't even look at her daughter. She just waved her off, laughing at her enthusiasm. "Of course, sweetie. You girls have fun."

Adia was on her feet in an instant. "Come on, Saria! Let's go!" She didn't even wait for me to respond, already skipping her way out of the door, her hair bouncing on her shoulders. She opened the back door and, within mere nanoseconds, she was gone. Glancing at the dinner table, I was astonished to note that Adia hadn't even bothered to clear up her place. Her half-empty plate still rested there, as did her napkin. The glass of milk that Faraya poured for her was stood on a coaster beside the plate, only about three-quarters drunk.

This bothered me. Could she not have taken but one second to clear up? It would only have taken a moment, and then we could have gone to play. But what surprised me the most was how Faraya reacted. Instead of being mad or scolding her daughter, instead of bursting through the garden doors and hauling Adia back to give her a lecture about proper conduct, all she did was just shake her head, a tiny laugh escaping from her lips. If I'd done this at home, I would have gotten a two-hour lecture from Tanya, and, if Mahmood felt inclined, I might have faced a lash or two of the belt.

Regardless, Adia may not have had the maturity to clean up after herself, but the same would not be said for me. For one, I didn't want word to come back to my parents about my conduct here, and for the second thing, well, that was just the type of person I am. Cleanliness mattered to me. Neatness mattered to me. I gathered up my own plate, as well as Adia's. Balancing them on my arms, I reached my hand out to Masood. "Masood jan, are you finished your lunch? If so, may I please take your plate?"

Masood blinked. "Oh..." he said, not expecting me to ask such a question. "Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, Saria. Sure. Thank you." He handed me his plate - which was considerably smaller and had had less food on it than mine or Adia's. Our fingertips brushed off of one another as he did so, and I had to remind myself not to frown, not to show any outward disgust at having been touched by this... invalid. Before I could allow the mask to fall, I turned, and brought the plates to the sink. I placed them down, waiting for a sign of approval from Faraya.

She turned and looked down at me with surprise. Raising a brow, she glanced from the plates, to me, then back to the plates again. "Tashakor, Saria jan," she cooed, placing the back of her hand against my face. We looked at each other for a moment, and then, she pulled away, turning her attention back to her cleaning. "Run along and play, darling. You don't want to keep Adia waiting for too long, she no doubt has much mischief planned for you both." There was a whimsical sense to her attitude. She gestured to the back door, and I began making my way out there.

Just before I reached the back door, Masood stopped me. He approached, holding out an arm to prevent me from going any farther. I paused, looking up at him sceptically. Glancing back to where Faraya once was, I noticed her walking away, to do what, I had no clue, nor did I give a fuck. The only thought in my head was that I was now left alone with Masood. There was nobody to come to my aid, nobody to rescue me should I need it. I stared into Masood's eyes, trying to figure out what it was that he wanted.

But there was nothing there, no way for me to read him. It wasn't that he was emotionless, no, on the contrary, it was that his eyes held more feeling than I could read. Perhaps, my inability to read him was just because I didn't know him. On a subconscious level, I wondered if Adia was able to read what her brother was thinking and feeling in the same way that I could with my Assef. Either way, there was no way I was going to get to the bottom of what this was about without first inquiring about it. I opened my mouth to speak. "I..."

Masood got there first, however. In a raspy, almost choked tone, he said, "You're getting along well with my sister?"

I nodded, bringing a finger to my lips. "Yes," I said, glancing down for a moment. "Uh, yeah, we're getting along very well, actually." True. Adia and I had been getting along swimmingly - so far so good, in my personal opinion. Masood continued to stare down at me, giving me a questioning eye. _Come now, what exactly do you fucking want?_ I thought, struggling to hold my cheerful, happy optimism. I wondered if there was any way that I could make a run for it. How far would I get before he called me back? I just did not want to be involved in this damn conversation.

"That's good," Masood smiled. It didn't quite reach his eyes. He glanced towards the back garden where his sister had run out to play. "You know, I'm very glad that you want to be her friend, Saria. I think... I think it's very good that she has someone like you, someone to look out for her, someone that she can trust." He paused. "I've only just met you, but I can already tell that you're going to have a bright and positive influence on my sister."

A bright and positive influence? Well, from my perspective, one might certainly see it in that way. Everything would fall into place, just the way that I wanted it to. Of course, I didn't tell Masood this. I merely kept up the charming facade, that epitome of the virtues for which I am known to extort. "Well, I can tell that she's going to be a wonderful friend for me, too," I replied, my tone remaining light-hearted. "I am, after all, having a lot of fun playing with her and getting to know her better. This is going to be a friendship that lasts forever, you can trust my word on that, Masood jan." He laughed at that, and I then pointed towards the backdoor. "Ah, and speaking of my new friendship with your sister, uh... may I please be excused? She's waiting for me in the gardens and I don't want her to think I'm not coming."

Masood laughed, waving me away. "Oh, of course, of course. Sorry, I don't mean to keep you. Go on, go and have fun." The minute he said that, I took my cue to begin going around him. Alas, before I could move, he reached his arms out, spreading them open. That stopped me in my tracks. Did he expect me to hug him? Did he... did he want me to put my hands on him? To think he could put his hands on me? The sheer audacity on his part!

Fat chance of that happening! I'm not the type of person who goes around hugging others, and I'm certainly not the type who hugs sick people. I rather like being healthy, thank you very much. As Masood stood there, awaiting my reciprocal embrace, I let out a shy giggle, bit my lip, and ducked around him. His face fell, disappointment evident in his brown eyes, but I was already rushing my way out of the back door. I fumbled with the lock, struggling to open it. Masood walked away, his footsteps fading as he disappeared into the hallway, and retreated up the stairs.

Outside, I descended the steps and found myself in the Kalahari's garden. An abundance of beautiful flora and fauna surrounded me, planted in various areas. There were two large poplar trees. One of them - the sturdiest - had two long pieces of rope tied to it. And, secured onto the end of said rope, were two large car tires. Adia was perched on one of the tires, her bare legs dangling, hands gripping the rope. She was in her element, unbridled joy plastered on her face.

She noticed me lingering in the doorway, and grinned, beckoning me forward. "Saria!" she chimed. Adia paused in mid-swing, her toes digging into the grass. "Come here, look at the swings that Daddy made for me!" How excited the bubbly girl was for me to come in and join her game. Who was I to deny her? I laughed, cheering in delight as I ran towards her. I reached the swing-set, and grinned at Adia. She motioned to the other tire. "Isn't it neat? Come on, swing with me!"

I guess I did have to admire her innocence. Her excitement to share with me this toy that her father had invested time - and probably money - into creating for her. I placed my hands around the rope, and then put one foot into the tire, the other dangling in mid-air. "Okay, let's do this," I whispered to myself, "one, two, three..." With that, I hoisted myself up so that I was balancing on the tire like Adia. I stretched my foot out, my toe barely touching the ground, but it gave me enough momentum to push off. Back and forth I went, the wind in my hair, the exuberance of being airborne. I closed my eyes and let it all wash over me.

This... this was what childhood felt like. This was innocence - far from the terrors of punishment, from the scrutiny of parents, from the constant need to be angelically unblemished, this was freedom. The only other times that I was ever as free as this was when I was with my Assef. This would never truly compare to the heaven that was his presence, but it was coming to a very close second. I made a mental note to broach the idea of having a swing of my own built at home. Mahmood and Tanya may not be agreeable in the beginning - yet if I told them that Adia loved them, then, they might entertain the idea, to make her happy.

About half-way through swing number five, I became overwhelmed with the feeling that Adia was looking at me. You just know how you can just tell when someone's eye is fixed on you. That intuition that we humans are blessed with. I lazily opened one eye and turned to face her. She was gazing at me with an unreadable expression, her little brow furrowed. This was a far cry from the joyous countenance that she'd been exhibiting moments before. I wasn't sure what this was about, but I wanted to find out.

"Is everything alright, Adia jan?" I asked. "You look as though there is something weighing on your mind. Would you like to share with me?" Oh, how I wish I had not opened my damn mouth and asked that question. See no evil, hear no evil, know no evil, do no evil. That was the mantra by which I should have lived by, and in that moment, especially. But the cat was out of the bag, the line was cast and the only option was for me to wait and see what Adia would do in response.

It took her a second to formulate her words. She placed her finger in her mouth, chewing on a hangnail. "I... It's probably nothing. It's just something that came into my head, uh, something that other children around the neighbourhood are talking about." Intrigued, I motioned for her to continue. She pulled her finger from her mouth and wiped it against the front of her shirt. "Uh, is it true that your brother... that he... that he bit Farsef Sajihdi's ear off?"

I blinked. Of all the questions I expected her to ask, that was not one of them. In all honesty, maybe I shouldn't have been too surprised. The news of what Assef had done to Farsef had spread throughout Wazir-Akbhar-Khan, circulating like wildfire as all rumours do. It only took one person talking about it - no doubt Farsef himself or his brother, Aarash - and soon every child was talking about the violent, gruesome attack. My brother's infamy had spread; and he'd even acquired a new nickname for himself - "Assef _Goshkhor_ " - or "Assef the Ear Eater". Of course, it was a name that they only dared to whisper in hushed tones when he wasn't around - doing it to his face, they knew, may have resulted in them having their own ears bitten off, just as Farsef had.

Now brought back to reality, I was faced with a choice. Tell Adia the truth, confess to something that she already knew of, or to pretend like I didn't know what she was talking about. To change the subject and get her back into more innocent, happy topics. Did I really want to broach this topic with her? To let her into the darkened world that my brother and I lived in? She was pure and good, would she have been able to handle it?

 _You should just tell her,_ Saria, I thought. _You want to make her yours? This is one of the consequences of that. Let this be a test for her, and for you. Tell her, see where her loyalty lies. Be open and honest, and then you will know where you stand. If she knows already, then what be the harm in confirming it for her?_ These words circulated in my mind as I faced Adia, gave her a solemn look - trying to hide my budding grin at the memory of Farsef's punishment - and said, "Yes, Adia. Yes, he did."

Adia's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. She jumped down from her swing and looked at me, gaping like a dying fish. I, too, descended from my own swing, following her as she paced. Had she been hoping that the rumours were just that - rumours? Had she been hoping for them not to be true? She must have been, if her reaction was anything to go by. She looked at me like she was afraid the same fate may befall her now. "But... but why, Saria? Why would... what... your brother... why would he do such a thing?"

Should I dare to speak further on the matter? To taint the blessed petals of her innocence once more? Or was the best option to keep quiet, to change our topic into something more lighthearted, to get her mind from the terrors of knowing her new friend's older brother was, as her naive mind must see, it, some sort of ear-eating maniac? Did I protect her gentle nature, or did I push this for all it was worth? I knew my answer, and I decided to toy a little bit with her, to see if I could make her empathise with my plight.

I gave her a downcast stare, my voice trembling as I began my tale of woe. "Because..." I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, and bit down on my fist, as though afraid to let her in on this tragic event. Was this all but a mere lie, emotional manipulation from my part? To some degree, yes, but on the other hand... I did still feel that sense of righteous indignation whenever I thought about what Farsef had done to me. "You see, Adia, Farsef was mean to me. He... I..." I paused, and Adia tenderly reached out to place a hand on my arm, urging me to continue. "I bought a kite from the market and I was flying it, and Farsef came along and started saying all these bad words, and calling me all of these mean, nasty names."

My tone was childlike, using words that I knew Adia would understand. From the look on her face, and the comforting way that she rubbed my shoulder, I knew that I had gained her compassion. "Uhm... then... then what happened, Saria?" she asked.

"Then he told me to give him my kite but I didn't want to," I said. I made my voice become quieter, more fearful, as I recounted what had happened, the horror that I'd felt as I'd been shoved down from that wall, tossed to the dirt like trash. "So he tried to steal it from me, and I... I told him to go away, but that made him angry, so then he pushed me over and I got a cut on my leg. That's when my brother came and he got mad because of what Farsef had done to me, and then..." I waved my hand over my right ear, and then gestured to my throat. "Well, you know..."

Adia blinked rapidly. She opened and closed her mouth, over and over, trying to formulate a coherent response to my words. Her gaze flicked downwards, towards my leg, which had long since healed of its injury. On some level, I wondered if she were trying to gauge whether or not I'd been entirely truthful with her, which, well... I had been. I had only embellished the story a little bit to further the narrative where I was the victim. No need for her to know that I, too, had joined in Farsef's punishment with gusto.

"Uh, that must have been... uhm... that must have been scary," she finally muttered, digging her heel into the ground. She cast her gaze downwards, but I could still see the tears that permeated upon her face. Was she crying for me, or because she empathised with what Farsef had gone through? I feared what the answer would be to that question, but, alas, I could not prevent the inevitable. Adia gulped, placing her hand on my shoulder. "It still wasn't right for Assef to do that, though."

I closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose. Frustration bubbled under my skin, coming just under the surface. Adia's only saving grace in that moment was the fact that she didn't mean what she was saying. She was naive, she didn't know any better. In her mind, the punishment did not fit the crime. It was down to me to pass on a little social education and inform her that yes, in fact, it did. I placed my hand over hers, giving her a stern yet understanding gaze. "He did it to protect me, Adia jan. To defend me, because that's what a good big brother does; he looks out for and protects his little sister."

Adia shook her head. "I... I mean..."

Here now, was my chance to play my trump card. I looked Adia deep into her eyes, still watering under the intense pressure of what she'd just learned. "Come now, Adia jan, can you honestly tell me that Masood wouldn't have done the same thing for you? That he wouldn't have stood up to defend his little sister, had what was done to me been done to you?"

Of course, I was more than aware that Masood would never have done for Adia what Assef did for me. For one, the boy could hardly stand up physically on his own two feet, much less "stand up" for his baby sister. For another thing, he was no doubt far too much of a pussy to ever lay his hands on anyone, even if that person had threatened, hurt or grabbed Adia. But I had laid the question out to her, I had given her cause to think about this. She may not be able to fully comprehend what Assef had done, on a moral or ethical level, but on a familial level, as a sister who's brother loved her - I assumed - she surely would be able to understand. _Surely_.

Her reaction took me aback, though. She seemed, for lack of a better word, offended, by what I was insinuating. She moved back, gaping at me, recoiled as though I'd just punched her in the face. She made a weird vocalization, as though she wanted to curse at me, but didn't think she should. The next words from her mouth could have made or broken our entire relationship. "My... my brother would never, ever do such an awful thing to someone else. He... He would never lay his hands on another person like that, much less bite their ear off!"

I opened my mouth. Tried to say something else. Tried to explain things a bit more. Adia must have figured that I didn't get her point, however, as she continued on her fucking tirade. "You know that Farsef's half-deaf now, don't you?! You know that he's... that he's going to suffer this for the rest of his life?" My lips twitched. The mental image of Farsef going through life, struggling to hear even the most basic of conversations, it made a burst of laughter spew out of me. Adia glared, wagging her finger at me. "People are going to laugh at him, and tease him and whisper mean things behind his back!" she exclaimed.

 _Not much issue if he can't hear them,_ I quipped internally, but managed to keep some level of control not to make that joke out loud. Adia threw her hands up, groaning in frustration. 'Bullying' was something that caused great offence to her. "There's no excuse for doing something so horrid, Saria. There's no excuse for hurting another person that way. Anyone who does that... they're just... just evil!"

I blinked. The world tilted on its axis. Did she... had she really just said what I thought she just said?! Had she really just opened her fucking mouth and let the most cruel words come tumbling out? I tried to measure my response, to keep my voice calm, though that was becoming increasingly ever-more difficult. "Are you saying," I began, taking a menacing step towards her. "Are you saying that my brother is evil? Is that what you're getting at here, Adia jan?" I spat that last word as though it were poison.

Adia mustn't have had the foresight or common sense to backtrack or apologise for what she'd just said. "Well, yeah, if that's the kind of person that he is, then... then he is evil. He's a monster and I-"

But she never got the chance to finish that sentence. My ears began ringing. My entire body swayed, and I lurched forward, as if I were about to throw up. The whole world melted away in that instance, in that garden, with this little bitch trying to lecture _me_ of all people. In that instance, I no longer cared about my experiment with Adia, I no longer cared about pretending to be a good, caring friend to her. I no longer cared that I had an image to maintain. No, my only driving thought was this: she _insulted_ my _brother_.

The realisation hit me like a freight train. It was like someone had handed me a bomb that was about to detonate any minute. Bile rose up in my throat, my eyes stung, my heart sank to the bottom of my chest. Adia may well have thrown ice water over me, that was how numb I felt. She'd just called Assef a monster. My brother. My Assef. The person who took care of me when nobody else did. The person who held me when I cried, protected me from those who would do me harm, understood me, understood all of the darkness in me and embraced it - and me - with open arms. The person who was my only equal, my best friend, my world and universe.

She had just called him a monster. Just insinuated that he was evil, that he was this horrid, vile bully. My anger spewed forth, and, with the blood rushing to my head once more, I lunged forward and caught Adia by the arm. A gasp of fear escaped her, but I didn't care. My nails dug into her flesh, my grip around her so forceful my knuckles turned white. I shook her violently back and forth, lips peeled back in a snarl, baring my teeth to her like fangs. "You don't say that!" I all but screamed in her face.

The look on her face was nothing short of terrified. Her eyes flicked from my contorted, monstrous gaze, to my nails digging into her arm. She tried to move back, but there was no way in hell that I was going to let her get away that easily. This little bitch had dared to insult Assef in front of me, and I would be damned if I didn't stand up for him. I violently shook Adia back and forth, raising my hand, as if to strike her. She covered her face with her other arm. I placed my hand down, wagging my finger in her face.

"I... I..." Adia gulped, trembling. She let out a whine of fear and pain, her lower lip trembling. "I'm... you're hurting me, Saria! You're hurting me!"

I kept shaking her, my body fuelled by nothing but rage. Nothing made me angrier than when someone dared to insult Assef, and to think that this little self-righteous brat had the gall to refer to him as an "evil monster" for no other reason than he'd defended me. "Hurting you, you little brat?!" I snarled. "Hurting you?! You fucking bitch, you... you go and insult my brother and then you have the AUDACITY to say that I am hurting YOU?"

Adia tried to say something else, to defend herself once more, but I was too far gone to listen to her. Pure, unbridled rage was the only feeling that I was going off of in this moment. I stomped my foot on the ground in a tantrum. "You don't talk about Assef like that, you hear me? You don't call him those names, you don't fucking say that he's a monster, or imply anything of the like. You will NEVER say such a disgusting thing again, because I swear, Adia, if you do... if you do..." I trailed off, my voice low, dangerous and menacing. "If you do, then I promise, I will make sure that you suffer for it. You think what happened to Farsef was bad, that will be a fucking pat on the back compared to what I'll do to you. Do I make myself perfectly clear on that?!"

Little Adia was now crying openly. Snot, tears, and all forms of disgusting mucus coated her face, her body trembling with wracked sobs. Pathetic. Utterly, and truly pathetic. But there was a strange, awkward sensation in my gut. A feeling that I was unused to comprehending. I shook it from my mind as Adia offered a broken, weak apology. "I'm... I'm sorry, Saria. I didn't mean... I didn't wanna upset you. I won't say that again, I promise. Please don't, please don't hurt me!"

Finally, my rage began to die down. I released her arm, taking a few steps back. Adia's tiny hand instantly went to rub at the large, red mark that I had caused. As my temper simmered once more, I was now hit full force with what an idiotic idea that had been. Lashing out, hurting Adia like this? Laying my hands upon her, in her own home? I cursed myself, wanting to cry at my own stupidity.

 _Damn it, Saria, did you really have to go and smack her around like that? What if someone saw you both, what if one of her family members was watching from the window?!_ That was a horrifying, heart-stopping thought. I turned my head towards the window, almost expecting Faraya, Javid or Masood to have been standing there, witnessing my act of cruelty. If they had, then I could think of no saving grace. That would have been the end of me, no doubt in a most literal sense. But luckily for me, there was nobody there. We seemed to be in the clear.

Still, I knew now that I had just shown Adia the darkest parts of myself. She was cowering away from me, whimpering, muttering out apology after apology. What was she thinking? What would she do? Was she planning to rush back to the safety of her house, to tell her mother what I had done? No, no, I couldn't have that. I began to rub her arm, carefully, tenderly stroking the bruise I was sure to have left. "I'm sorry, Adia jan," I whispered, making her head jerk up as she looked at me as though I'd grown twenty extra eyes. "I shouldn't have put my hands on you like that, I shouldn't have..."

She continued to whimper, flinching away from me. Terrified that I may hurt her again, but too afraid that I might snap again to get away. I cupped her face in my hand, wiping her tears. "I... I over-reacted, Adia, and I sincerely apologise for that. I just... I was so angry because of what you said. My brother means so very much to me that it hurts my feelings when someone says mean words about him. I know that I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, but..." Would she believe me? Would she forgive me? Or had I just ruined all hope with Adia?

Adia wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She must have thought that forgiving me was a better option than continuing our argument, as she gave me a small, timid nod. "I... I... It's okay, Saria."

I breathed out in relief, opening my arms for her. Desperate for comfort, even from the person who had so brutally assaulted her, Adia fell into my embrace. I rubbed her shoulders and kissed her head, rocking her in my arms. "Hush now, Adia jan. Dry your tears, it's all okay now, I promise. I won't hurt you again, sweet one, I won't. Just... take it easy now. You're okay, we're okay." On some level, I wondered if I were trying to convince myself of that. Adia's hyperventilating slowed, her breathing fading into to a more normal, rhythmic pattern.

Once I was sure that she'd calmed down enough, I pulled her up so that she was looking me in the eye. Now, I knew, was the time to manipulate her once more. So much was at stake here, and if I didn't get this absolutely right, well then, I shudder to think of the consequences. I tilted Adia's chin upwards. "Adia," I said, "I need... I need you to make me a promise. I need you to swear to me that you won't tell anyone about what happened here. That you'll keep our argument between the two of us."

"But... but what about...?" Her gaze landed on her bruised arm again. I knew what she was thinking; how to explain that to her parents. Fortunately for her, though, Saria Ahmed is a master when it comes to explaining away injuries. "All you need to do is say that you fell off of your swing while we were playing. Tell them that it was an accident. It will all be okay, just... if you tell them what really happened, they won't want us to be friends anymore. They'll stop me from coming round to play and I don't want that, do you?"

Adia shook her head, frantic, horrified by the very thought. In that moment, I wondered just how lonely she must truly have been. "I won't tell, Saria, I promise. I want us to be friends, I won't... I won't tell anyone. Cross my heart!"

"Good." That was that, then. Over and done with. While a miniscule part of me feared that she may go back on her word, I pushed such thoughts to the back of my mind. I would not think that way. She had been punished for her actions, and now, I had forgiven her. I drew her back into my arms, kissing her head and shushing her. Everything would be okay. Everything would work out in my favour, this I knew.

This was only a blip in the road. We would make it through, Adia and I. My experiment would soon be back on track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all for reading! In the next chapter, Saria is introduced to Amir and Hassan for the first time, and her opinions on both of them are drastically different. I appreciate all of you wonderful readers. Thank you again!


	6. Of Crushes and Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Saria found herself losing her temper when Adia insulted Assef in front of her. She violently attacked the girl, causing the beginnings of tensions in an already rocky relationship. With a few well-placed lies, she was able to get things back on track. Now, a few more days have passed and we find her at home with her brother...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who takes the time to read through my work, I truly appreciate all of my readers. Again, please be aware that the thoughts, feelings, speech and actions of the characters here do not necessarily reflect those of the writer.
> 
> Disclaimer that I do not own anything within the Kite Runner novel that is not an original character of mine. Any characters and plot points pertaining to the original novel belong to Khaled Hosseini.
> 
> With that said, please enjoy!

Snowflakes fluttered down from the sky. They landed directly on me - my overcoat, and the hem of my polka-dot dress now covered in little flecks of white. I lifted my hand, flicking the snow away from me, only for what seemed like far more to come down. Some landed on the table, some on the ground, but again, quite a lot landed on me. I rolled my eyes and continued to flick it away. A laugh echoed from across the table and I looked up to see my brother grinning playfully at me.

He gestured to the snow that had landed on my dress. "What, you don't like snow, _Liebchen_?" he asked, looking down at the snow that rested on the table. There was a hint of mirth to his voice, and I read his thoughts before he could turn them into actions. I tried to back away, but Assef was too quick for me. He picked up a ball of snow, tossing it at me. I shrieked, mouthing, 'hey, no fair!' and poking my tongue out at him. Well, two could play at that game. I picked up some snow of my own and chucked it at Assef. It bounced off of his coat, landing on the ground.

Assef and I were sat together in our back garden. About two days had passed since the incident with Adia - though I had done my level best to push that event to the back of my mind. Either way, today I had chosen to spend time with my favourite person, and so far, everything was going well. We'd been chatting back and forth, playfully teasing one another, just getting along in the way that only siblings as close as we were could.

Despite the bitingly cold weather, and the constantly falling snow, both Assef and I much preferred to spend time outside, especially when our parents were home. Though our bedrooms did offer some relative privacy, there remained that chance that Mahmood and Tanya might come bursting in, ready with a lecture or just to try and barge in on _our_ private time. Neither of us wanted that, so here we were. Privacy. Or... as much privacy as one could get in the Ahmed household.

I glanced towards our swimming pool. It was empty, of course. Mahmood always cleared the pool whenever winter rolled in - or rather, he hired people to clear it out. Now, it was just an empty pit of fallen snow, and some of the pines from our palm trees had landed in there too. Resting my hand on my chin, I looked wistfully at it. "I wish I could go swimming right now," I said, "just... dive right in there."

"You realise you'd break both your legs if you dove in now, Saria," Assef teased, gesturing towards the pool. "Given how deep it is, and all." He was right, of course. With no water in there, I would no doubt cause myself quite a bit of injury if I decided to go jumping on there right now. All the same, how I longed for the freedom that came with swimming. That was one of the sports that I was quite good at - Tanya having been utterly adamant that Assef and I both learn from a very young age.

I drummed my fingers against my thigh - still looking out in that general direction. A gentle sigh escaped from my lips. "You're right," I muttered, "I mean, of course I can't go in there right now. But I'd like to at some point. When Mahmood gets it filled in again."

Assef nodded. "That won't be until springtime, _Liebchen_ , you know that," he said. "Not until the weather gets much, much warmer. Probably late February, early March." Ah yes. When my brother and I would be back in school - and therefore expected to spend most of our time doing homework and being the best students that we could. I rolled my eyes at the very thought. Assef chuckled. "Besides, any water that goes in there now will freeze within seconds, you know that."

He had a point there. Shrugging, I quipped back, "Could go ice-skating then, couldn't we?"

My brother was just about to respond, when we heard footsteps approaching, breaking us out of our reverie. Oh, just great. Just our luck. Remember how I mentioned that we were spending time here because we wanted privacy from Mahmood and Tanya? Well, Mahmood needed to get on the ball in that regard. He was making his way towards us, arms swinging by his sides, dressed formally in a suit, his hair combed and no doubt gelled to the extreme. He looked so ridiculous that I had to remind myself not to throw my eyes up to heaven.

As he reached us, Mahmood placed his hands on his hips. He stood there, his eyes narrowed. The look on his face was nothing short of disgusted. He looked as though he had just stood in dog crap. He looked at my brother and I as though we were that dog crap. As though we were... _less_... than that dog crap. Assef's face fell and he sighed, barely noticeable to anyone but I, before we turned on the charm once more, and plastic smiles wormed its way onto both of our faces.

Mahmood looked down at us. "I wondered where you'd both gotten to. You two enjoying yourselves?" he asked awkwardly. He moved from one foot to the other. Wondering where we'd gotten to? Hmm, I doubted that. The stupid man had no idea how to start a conversation with his children though, unless it involved scolding or lecturing us. He smiled, an action that lasted for but one moment before it disappeared again. My brother glanced at me, then back to Mahmood once more.

"Yes, Father," he replied, charming as always. "It's a lovely day, after all. Why not spend it outside?" I was, of course, the only one who understood the meaning behind that statement; why not spend it away from you. Mahmood was, of course, utterly and totally oblivious. Being the stupid fool that he is. He just took Assef's words completely at face-value.

He glanced at one of the chairs, perhaps wondering if he ought to sit with us. Which would have been a complete fucking disaster - and I found myself praying that it would not happen. Fortunately, my prayers were answered, though maybe not in the way that I'd hoped. Mahmood walked around behind my chair and lent down to put his hands on my shoulders, making me tense up.

He looked down at me, then back to Assef. "Well, I really just came out here to inform you both that your mother and I will be going out for dinner tonight." Ah, of course. What other reason would there be for him to come and see us? Couldn't just want to spend time with his son and daughter, now could he? Well, this more than explained his formal attire. But... were they going right now? In the middle of the afternoon?

I was just about to voice that opinion but Assef got there before me. He glanced in my direction, then back at Mahmood, still with a charming grin on his face. "Oh. Are you going now then?" he asked, looking Mahmood up and down, indicating to his suit.

Mahmood nodded, straightening his tie. "Yes. I have an important business meeting today." Ah, yes. Of course he did. Why am I not surprised? He continued on. "It's a few hours drive up there, so your mother and I will be leaving as soon as we're both ready, and probably won't be back for the rest of the evening. So, Assef, you are in charge for the evening. There's food in the fridge and..." He reached into his pocket and removed some cash, placing it down on the table. "here, if you need to go to the market and buy something for yourselves."

He was trying to act like a "nice" father, giving us money, treating us, but was failing miserably. All I could think of was the fact that Assef and I still had plenty of the money that he had stolen from Mahmood earlier. We certainly did not _need_ more of it, though we wouldn't complain. But of course, Mahmood didn't know that. All he cared about was doing the bare minimum to ensure that his children had what, he thought, they needed.

Of course, what really mattered to him was the business meeting he needed to attend. Kissing ass, impressing people, sucking up to anyone who may have happened to be even the slightest bit more powerful than he - that was the Mahmood Ahmed way. That was, of course, the reason that he had managed to acquire such high levels of pay and privileges for himself - and why he often came up for promotion within the airport that he worked. Pathetic, in my eyes, but I guess there was no point in voicing that opinion. But I'd heard this crap more than enough times to be almost used to it by now.

Assef took the money and slid it into his pocket. "Thank you, Father," he said. From the look in his eyes, I could tell that he was thinking the same as I - how ridiculous this whole thing was. He clasped his hands and leaned back in his seat. No doubt hoping that Mahmood would get the hint and go away. But no, oh no. He continued to drone on and on, talking about how important this meeting - which was funny, because he treated every meeting he went to like the most important one ever.

I was honestly struggling to pay attention. I wanted to get up and walk away, but Mahmood's hands on my shoulders prevented me from doing so. _This is boring. What the fuck are you telling me this for? Do you think I care? Shut up, you stupid little man. I'm trying to spend time with my brother, stop fucking ruining it. Stop. Just... just go away. Get away from us! Damn it, just leave us alone!_

Mahmood looked back to the house, then stepped back, finally removing his hands from off of my shoulders. He moved back, and I turned slightly to face him. His speech drew to its long overdue conclusion. "I need to get going. Like I say, we'll be gone for most of the afternoon. I'd say it'll be late this evening before we get back. Assef, you'll be in charge of your sister. Ensure that she goes to bed at a reasonable hour." He paused and fixed my brother with a pointed look. "Do not let her stay up until all hours of the night, please. And please, behave yourselves. Stay out of trouble."

He was looking at me when he said that, grinning. He was trying to have a teasing edge to his voice. No doubt in an attempt to make me giggle like the naive child he thought me to be. I ducked my head away, pretending to be bashful and shy. "We will, Papa," I replied, dripping with charm, purity and innocence. "Don't worry, everything will be fine. I hope your dinner goes well."

That was but another attempt to butter him up, of course, and to get him off of our back. But I did have to wonder; what would he consider to be 'getting into trouble'. Surely nothing close to what Assef and I actually did. Nothing like biting off ears or attacking friends, or anything of the like. That was clearly not what he thought at all. At least, not from his grinning and nodding at me. "I hope so too, Saria. You be a good girl and do as your big brother says, alright?"

Assef got to his feet, gesturing for me to do the same. I was a little unsure where this was going - the expression on his face was unreadable. "We will, Father, rest assured. Now, come on, Saria. I'll take you to the market for a few hours." He reached out, taking my hand, and leading me towards the back gate. He turned to Mahmood. "See you when you get back, Father."

With that, he lead me towards the back gate. His grip on my hand was tight, his knuckles white as they gripped my wrist. Our feet crunched as we walked through the snow, across our back yard. Assef reached up with one hand, the other still holding mine, and unlatched the gate. It swung open, and my brother looked down at me - that same unreadable expression on his face.

"Come on, Saria. Let's... we need to go." I barely had a chance to say a word before Assef was hauling me out the gate, power-walking through the streets. He turned one corner, then another corner, then another. This was... not the way we used to go to the market. I tried to figure out where, exactly, my brother was taking me, but I didn't have the chance to do so. Certainly, there was no way for me to stop and look around. It was taking all of my energy to keep up with Assef - to stop myself from tripping over my own damn feet.

I voiced my complaints to my brother, trying to yank myself free from his grasp. "Where are we even going?" I asked, irritation evident in my voice. He didn't answer, just continued to power-walk, speeding up to almost a run. It was obvious that there was something off about him - something weighing deeply on his mind. In other circumstances, I would have asked what was wrong. I would have been concerned, truly, and in some way I was. But, and forgive my selfishness for saying this, what I was more concerned about not falling and twisting my ankles.

"Sl-Slow down," I griped, as my foot slipped on a piece of loose dirt and I almost fell, almost went right down to my ass. My brother noticed, though, and, muttering under his breath, placed his hand under my arm and lifted me back up. By now, I had figured out where we were going. The barracks. This was the same way that we had gone home after the incident with Farsef. The way that didn't go through the market. A shortcut. "Slow... slow the fuck down, Assef, please! What's wrong? What's the damn rush?!"

But I went ignored. We continued to walk - or rather, practically run, in Assef's case, and stumble like an idiot in my case - down the dirt-covered road, down the hill. Finally, the barracks came into view. Relief washed through me - maybe now my brother would stop this incessant running. We walked past the wall that Farsef had shoved me off of, and finally, Assef stopped. He released his grip on my hand, and took a few steps back, breathing heavily.

There was an old, upturned crate next to the wall. I made my way over and rather unceremoniously flopped onto it, reaching down to rub at my ankles, and my wrist. I was out of breath, achy, my sides burning. I clutched at them, trying to get my breathing under control, trying to prevent my head from spinning. Assef's expression was still utterly blank, just staring ahead. His little sister, on the other hand, was no doubt letting her emotions show like an open book.

"Thanks for almost tearing the hand off me," I snapped, holding my now red wrist out to him. "And for almost making me break my _fucking_ ankle back there. Why the hell were you running like that for?" I continued to glare, waiting for an answer, for the explanation that I knew was owed to me. Assef looked down at me, and blinked, tilting his head from one side to the other. His face fell, his blue eyes expressing the guilt I knew he was now feeling for having caused me any sort of bother.

He flopped onto the upturned crate beside me, reaching out and drawing me close. "Forgive me, _Liebchen_ ," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of my head, and placing a lock of hair behind my ear. "I shouldn't have dragged you like that. Here, let me-" Taking a hold of my wrist, Assef picked it up and turned it over, checking it for any injuries. When he saw that it was fine - merely a little red, he made an audible noise of relief and placed it down again, before holding me close once more. "I didn't mean... I just... Sometimes I just get so angry - and not at you, never at you -" he added, as if the very thought was abhorrent to him "- but at Mahmood. You know how our parents infuriate me. You know what it's like. Self-righteous bastard. I couldn't stand being anywhere near him again. I just... had to get away. I had to get _you_ away."

I nodded. That made sense. Mahmood would infuriate even those with the patience of a saint. Of course my brother would be angered by him, his patronizing attitude, his way of belittling us in every conversation. I couldn't blame him for feeling that way. And I knew I would forgive him for his earlier reaction - he hadn't meant to cause me bother - the guilty look on his face was more than enough to prove that. Assef and I hated the mere thought of bringing any sort of harm to one another.

Resting my head on his arm, I hummed softly. "It's okay. Assef. I understand, I do. Mahmood just has that way about him, doesn't he?" He nodded and I licked my lips, feeling myself begin to calm down from the issues of the day. The throbbing in my ankle was beginning to heal, my breathing became easier to manage, and I was no longer about to pick a fight with my brother for dragging me out here. "Don't worry about it, really. I'm fine."

Assef nodded, exhaling in relief. For a time, we just sat there, together, enjoying the refreshing weather and the incredible company. We engaged in small talk, chatting about this, that and the next thing. Anything that came to mind, really. Of course, this being us, quite a lot of our talk involved reminiscing over a past Just Because or two. Ah, but was there any harm in that? After all, a Just Because was my favourite activity to do with my brother. And the memories of those we had gone on before always warmed my heart.

But then... the more we talked about violence, the more we reminisced about causing pain to others, the more I was reminded of an act of violence that I had perpetrated not too long ago. Violence that had sprung forth from my core without me even thinking about it, violence that had been done on no more than a whim. An callous act that - while I may have tried to forget about it - was still lingering at the forefront of my brain.

If you're guessing that I'm talking about what I did to Adia, then your thinking would be correct. I did try not to think about it, I tried to push the event away, but... I couldn't help it. In the days since last Adia and I had been in each other's company, I would find myself thinking about what I had done to her. Her little face flashed before my eyes, a vision of terror under my devilish grip. Oh, the thrill of control. Yet there came another image, this one set to freeze my blood to ice. A brutal and traumatic "what if"? that I wrestled with every time I thought about Adia.

I decided I would voice my concerns. No point in letting them burn within me as they had done. Besides, Assef would know how to set my mind at ease - he always did. If nothing else, then telling him what I was feeling would no doubt be a load off of my back. Who else could I turn to, after all? I took his hand in mine, intertwining our fingers together. "Assef?" I whispered, my voice far tinier than I'd expected it to be.

He blinked down at me, eyebrows raised. From the concern on his face, I could tell he must have figured there was something wrong. "Yeah, Saria, what is it? What's up?" I didn't answer, perhaps unable to form the words. "Are you feeling unwell?" Assef placed the back of his hand against my forehead, then my cheek. "You look... out of sorts, _Liebchen,_ what is it? Tell me, please."

"Uh... it's... it's about Adia. About what happened the last time I was over at her house." Of course, Assef needed no further explanation. I had confided in him everything that went down between Adia and I the very day it happened. What reason was there for me to keep it from him? It wasn't as if he was going to pass any judgement upon me. On the contrary, when I told him, he had wrapped his arms around me, kissed my head, and complimented me for how well I'd handled everything.

Had I really though? Had I truly handled that as best I could? I'd thought so at the time, but now... now I was questioning myself. I gulped, nerves making my insides clam up, and voiced these thoughts. "I... I know... I know it's been a few days and nothing's happened... and maybe I'm just paranoid but..." I trailed off, unable to bring that sentence to its logical conclusion. The words remained on the tip of my tongue, fighting their way out. I just... I couldn't bring myself to do it. To make my nightmarish fantasy real.

Assef needed to hear no more, though. He knew what I was about to say - perhaps before the words had even become coherent thoughts. "But you're afraid that she might go back on her word?" he asked, looking me in the eye. "You're afraid that she might tell her parents about what she did and that you'll get into trouble for it?" Trouble, of course, was an understatement. If Mahmood and Tanya ever learned of how I'd treated Adia, well, I may well have looked forward to the worst belting of my young life. The look on my face must have been enough for Assef to figure he was right in his assumption, as he drew me close to him, and kissed my forehead.

"That won't happen, I promise," he reassured me. "If she was going to tell on you, then she would have done it by now."

I frowned. "How do you know that, Assef? She... she could have told Javid and Faraya the moment I went home. She could... she could be telling them right now!" My voice broke on that last word, terror gripping me. The mental image of Adia confessing every last bit of my deepest, cruelest secret was too much to bear. I envisioned her quivering, gathered into the comforting arms of her loving family. The looks of fury that would cross Javid's face, as he made his way to my house. The conversation that would ensue between him and Mahmood. The... the... Oh, I could not bear to think of it!

"Saria," Assef interrupted, taking my hands in his. "Hush, sister, there's no need for you to worry. Adia won't breathe a word to her parents, or to anyone, about what you did to her. Trust me, you're absolutely in the clear on this."

 _How can you be so sure?_ I thought, baffled by his confidence on the matter. _How can you know? I don't... I don't..._ Again, Assef cut across me before I had the chance to speak. His voice was tender, gentle but firm. "You want to know how I know this?" he asked, and when I nodded, he continued on. "Because we both know she hasn't said anything yet. If she did, then our parents would have done... something... about it." Something, of course, meaning beating me black and blue. Assef's eyes glinted with fury at the mere thought, but when he spoke again, it was with a measured calm. "And now, well, her bruises have probably healed up. If she tells now, she will have no evidence with which to back up her claim."

He did have a point there. Although my anxiety didn't let me calm down just yet. "She doesn't need bruises for them to trust her, Assef," I whispered, "Faraya and Javid would believe her anything."

"Perhaps," Assef mused, "but tell me, would she not then have to explain why she lied to them? Do you really think they're going to risk their connections with our parents over what is, essentially, a tall tale that Adia made up? They need to remain friends with Mahmood and Tanya, too, don't you forget that. There is nothing for you to worry about. You handled yourself brilliantly, and I for one, am extremely proud of you."

My heart leapt at those words. Everything I did was to make my brother proud, I looked up to him more than anyone else. Every time he told me I'd done a good job - on anything, it mattered not what it was, I felt myself grow wings and take flight. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Assef, you always know just what to say." I hummed, furrowing a brow, another thought occurring. "I must say, while I regret acting on that impulse, I do not regret what I did, not one bit. Does that make sense?"

Assef nodded. He tapped my nose with a finger, grinning. "Of course, you did what was right, you know that." In both mine and my brother's eyes, an act of violence against an outside party was always justified, and more so when it came to standing up for the other. "And I'll thank you again for standing up for me the way that you did. I know you want to cultivate a friendship with Adia; it means a lot that you were willing to put that all on the back burner for me. Thank you, _Liebchen_."

"I would rip apart any creature that dares to insult you, Assef," I told him, with the deepest and most truthful of convictions. Those words were not enough to describe the lengths that I would go to for my brother. Should Adia dare to breathe another word in the vein that she'd done before, then there would be no forgiveness from me, no more. Assef smiled, drawing me in once more, kissing me tenderly and holding me close.

Feeling tired from the day's events, and from the conversation we'd just had, I leaned my head against my brother's shoulder and closed my eyes. T'would be for but a moment, that was what I told myself. Just a minute. All I wanted was to rest my eyes, to calm my weary bones, a few mere moments of daydreaming. That was all. Just a moment... just a minute... just a little break. Just... a...

"Saria, _Liebchen_ , wake up..." Assef was shaking my arm, jostling me. What was he doing? Why was he telling me to wake up? I'd only been resting my eyes - there was no need for him to be pawing at me like that. I opened my eyes. The world was blurry, and Assef's face was hard for me to discern. With a groan escaping from my lips, I blinked, then blinked again. Assef now looked clearer. Good. I arched a brow, tilting my head curiously at him. He laughed, and ruffled my hair. "You fell asleep," he teased, chuckling.

 _Asleep?!_ I'd fallen _asleep?! No, surely not,_ I thought, I _couldn't have - I'd only meant to rest my eyes for a moment. Only meant to take a tiny rest. I wasn't some damn toddler than needed a nap. Here I am, wanting to spend an afternoon with my big brother and I waste it by falling asleep? What the fuck, what the actual fuck, Saria?!_ I felt guilty when I realized that I'd left Assef to sit there doing nothing but babysitting me while I napped. I inwardly chided myself for having done so.

Opening my mouth, I tried to gush out an apology to him. It was the least that he deserved, of course. "Oh, shit. Really? I... did not intend for that to happen. I'm sorry, Assef. I just wished to rest my eyes. I... I didn't mean to actually fall asleep. Fuck, do I feel an idiot right now. Forgive me, big brother. Didn't mean to leave you hanging like that." Part of me wondered if I ought to ask how long I'd been asleep, but I figured against it. Didn't wish to compound my guilt even further.

Assef laughed, waving off my apology. "It's alright. It's this weather, I think. Plus all of the stresses you've been going to. Don't worry about it, _Liebchen_. Besides, you only slept for about half-an-hour, that's all." Well, that answered my unspoken question. "You need to rest. To be honest, I was going to let you alone but..." He leaned in, grinning mischievously, "I spotted _Kunis_ and _Donkey_ and I figured... well, you wouldn't want to miss this."

 _Kunis and Donkey? Who...? Who's that?_ I tried to wrap my brain around it. _Kunis_ \- fag - was one of Assef's favorite insults and he used it quite often, and for a variety of people. But I was drawing a blank on who this could be. Assef liked to give derogatory nicknames to those enemies of his, but he'd accumulated so many of them over the years that it was a little hard to tell who was who. Wali? Kamal? No, no, he didn't call them either of those names. Farsef? No... he called him "The Deaf Freak" now. So who then? Of whom he could be speaking?

Internally, I tossed names back and forth, of all the people that my Assef had come into contact with recently. All of those who he'd made an enemy of and who could be on the receiving end of such maligning nicknames, but nothing was coming to mind. Finally, when I had exhausted all of my options, I decided it best to just go ahead and ask. "Who?" I asked, squinting into the distance. "Assef, really, you're not being very specific here. That could be literally anyone - please, brother, I need more to go on than that. Anyone I've met before?"

"Oh, uh, well, no actually. Which is probably why you don't know who I'm talking about. Sorry, _Liebchen_ ," Assef said. But I was no more interested in hearing an apology that didn't need to be given. I gesticulated for him to continue speaking. He pointed off into the distance. "Amir and Hassan, Saria." When I made no indication of knowing who either of those people were, Assef leaned down to whisper in my ear, "Jansher Qadiri's son and his little Hazara pet."

Amir Qadiri! Now that name was one that most certainly rang a bell! Or... for the sake of accuracy here, let me say that I recognized his father's name before his own. But then... everyone in Kabul knew of Jansher Qadiri. He was one of the most prominent - if not _the_ most prominent - and well-known men here. A man of immense wealth and power - an imposing figure of at least six foot, or that was what I'd heard about him. He was the one responsible for helping many of the businesses here to get up on their feet.

As well as this, apparently he also built an orphanage somewhere in Kabul. That had happened back when I was little - only about six or seven, I can't remember exactly. What I do recall is Mahmod and Tanya talking about it, and trying their level best to be involved in some way or another. Whether they ever were or not, well, I don't remember that. Regardless, Jansher was an extremely well-respected man. Rumor even had it that he'd wrestled a bear in Baluchistan, though of course there was no way to corroborate such a claim.

But it was not Jansher Qadiri who had grabbed my brother's attention. No, it was his son. Amir Qadiri - a pathetic, sniveling weakling of a boy. He was in school with Assef, though a few grades behind. I'd never met him personally, but I'd heard stories from my brother, and according to Assef, he was "the definition of fairy personified". He was a bookish, studious boy who cared more about reading than he did sports. In fact, Assef often told me that whenever the boys played soccer or any such sport - Amir would try and fail to get involved - and when it became clear that he was utter shit, he'd retreat into a corner with one of his books.

Now, that may have been bad enough - and any one of those personality traits would have earned him a place on my Assef's Enemy List - but what made Amir a particular target was the way that he treated his servant. Amir and his father treated their servants like... well, I hate to call them "members of the family" but as glorified pets, in many ways. Gave them food and shelter, spoke to them with respect, engaged them in conversation. If you can believe that!

Amir's treatment of Hassan was a crime in and of itself. Assef told me that the two boys spent most of their time together, in the hours that Amir was not in school, of course. He played with Hassan, talked to him, laughed with him. They were often seen together wandering the streets of Wazir-Akbhar-Khan, enjoying themselves, the best of friends. Amir treated Hassan like someone who mattered - and the very idea of such made me want to vomit. What kind of person did that? What kind of person treated their servants as friends? I couldn't understand.

"They're here?" I asked, unable to keep the curious tone out of my voice. I craned my neck, trying to see for myself. Bit silly, really, though. I didn't know who I was looking for - never having seen them before. I tilted my head up at Assef, blinking. "Uh... where?"

"Coming right this way, _Liebchen_ ," he replied, grinning. He stood from the crate and offered his hand to me, gesturing towards the market. There, I could see the faint outline of two young boys, arms around one another (gross) headed in our direction. Assef's eyes trailed them, analyzing their every move. "Tell me, sister, what say you we go over there and say hello?"

My answering grin was huge, my eyes sparkling. Any chance to harass someone - and most definitely a Hazara-lover like Amir - was definitely fine by me. I lifted my hand slightly, and tapped my knuckles, a silent question. Assef nodded, placing a hand on the front pocket of his jeans. My joy grew times ten. "Well now, brother, would you be so kind as to introduce me to them?"

Assef nodded, and together the two of us made our way towards the boys. From our position, they had not seen us yet. Now that we were coming closer to them, I could make out their conversation - or at the very least, the tale end of it. One of the boys - Amir, I assume - was telling the other about a story that he read. The other was eagerly asking him to read the story at some point. Amir laughed. "When we get home later, I'll read it to you," he said. I almost retched. Assef, noticing the look on my face, came to my aid and ended this disgusting display.

He motioned for me to come with him, and side-stepped right in front of Amir and Hassan, preventing them from going any further. "Hello, there!" he exclaimed, hands on his hips. He looked them both up and down. "Well, fancy seeing you two here."

The boys looked at each other. They were both so, so different - Amir with his perfect, Pashtun features, and Hassan, with that Chinese-doll appearance. I wrinkled my nose, not wanting to look at the Hazara any more. Hassan musn't have wanted to see Assef or I - most likely the former - either, because he was looking every which way except at us. I turned my attention from him, and focused it solely on Amir.

He was short, though still a few inches taller than I. He was wearing a leather coat, green scarf and blue jeans. His eyes were hazel, and very expressive. The first thing that I noticed about those eyes was the terror that reflected like a mirror within them. Amir's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, focusing on my brother, his lower lip dropping into an open gasp. He murmured something under his breath, which I could not make out. Something along the lines of "oh no" or "oh dear", but do not quote me on that.

I was struck by the fluttering in my chest. My heart thudded, then thudded again. Tiny acrobats decided that now would be a good time to perform some death-defying stunts within my stomach. Goosebumps made the hair on my arms raise up. This was... not the reaction that I expected to have, certainly not to a person like Amir. Damn it, I was meant to hate him. I was not meant to be... developing a crush on him. _Was_ I developing a crush on him? I looked back at Amir, and my heart skipped a beat. Yes. Yes, I was.

There now, at the tender age of just eleven, I developed my first crush. Congratulations to Amir Qadiri, for having the prestigious honor of being the first ever person that Saria Ahmed ever felt those romantic feelings towards. Amir, still gaping at my brother, took a hesitant step back, nearly tripping over his own feet. The terror he was clearly feeling made him all the more attractive to me. It made him seem easy to mold, to make him perfect. Fear can be a beautiful teaching tool, can it not?

Regardless, back to the events at hand. Assef grinned down at Amir and Hassan. "Aren't you going to say hello, boys?" he asked, lips curling. No answer. "Come now, what's with the miserable expressions, huh? I thought fairies were meant to be cheerful." At those words, Amir gulped, and looked to Hassan, but neither of them said a word. Assef placed a hand on my back, ushering me forward. "Not planning to talk, then? Never mind. My little sister asked me to introduce her to you." It was clear from the tone in his voice that he did not include Hassan within that statement. Assef gestured to me. "This is my Saria."

"I... I... Uhm... Okay..." Those were the first words that Amir Qadiri ever spoke to me. Not the most romantic first words, no, but I'd take them. He looked like he'd just been frozen into place. As though the ground beneath his feet had become cement, preventing him from moving any further. "Uhm... uh... hi... hi, Saria. I'm, uh, I'm Amir, uh..." He looked at Hassan, and for a moment I wondered if he'd introduce the creature to me, but he didn't. Hassan hadn't said a word, and quite frankly, I was hoping it would stay that way.

Amir was looking back and forth from Assef to me, as if trying to scrutinize our expressions. When he looked at me, his eyes lingered on mine, and I noticed him focusing on them. Was the uncanny resemblance that my brother and I had to each other unnerving him, I wondered. Did he see that same hidden darkness that lurked within Assef's eyes lurking within mine? And if so, what did he think of it? Did it frighten him? Did it... did he... was he intrigued by it? All of these were questions that I yearned to have the answers to.

I smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Amir jan. My brother tells me lots about you." At those words, his eyes flickered back to Assef. He squinted, tilting his head to the left, and then the right. He placed a finger on his lips and tapped it a few times. There was an unfamiliar expression on his face - nervousness? Apprehension? Surprise? I chuckled, waving a hand. "It's good things. Don't worry." Mostly. But he didn't need to know that my brother and I often laughed and made crude jokes at his expense. "I'm glad to finally put a face to the name."

Just when Amir was about to reply to me, and we were, no doubt, about to engage in an open and friendly conversation, we were interrupted. By who, you ask? Well, by the walking, talking, breathing embodiment of worthlessness. Hassan leaned over next to Amir and whispered, his voice trembling, "Uhm... Amir agha?" Amir didn't respond, still looking from Assef to me. Hassan tentatively tugged on Amir's sleeve - making me want to rip his fucking hand off. "Amir agha... shouldn't we get going? We don't want to miss the start of the film."

Was he... was he trying to prevent me from talking to Amir? Was he trying to tell Amir what to do? A servant, telling their master what to do? The utter fucking audacity was mind-boggling to me. I bristled, wondering if I should say something. Amir clearly wasn't about to do so. Was it down to me, then? Did it fall to me to chastise Hassan for his disrespect? I would, of course, and I would have had no qualms about it - but Assef got there before me.

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Hassan. "Hazara, tell me, shouldn't you be off buying food in the market or cleaning or something?" he asked, his lips curling upwards in a sneer. "I know Amir doesn't have any other friends except you but that doesn't mean you need to cling to him like some pathetic dog." He was dead right, of course, as he is on so many topics. Though something in his words made me feel rather empathetic towards Amir. He ought to have more friends than just Hassan. He ought not to consider Hassan a friend at all.

"Uh... it's... it's not like that... Assef..." Amir whispered, his voice barely audible. His cheeks flushed, embarrassment evident on his face. He was trying to appease my brother by making up excuses, but neither Assef nor myself were buying it. "It... it's not... I mean..." He gulped, trembling in fear. At this point, Hassan decided that it would be a good fucking idea speak up again, because he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

"Amir agha is taking me to see the new Western movie," he said, his voice trembling, but with a hidden confidence to his tone. _Really?_ I thought, _Amir is honestly taking this piece of shit to the movies? He's spending money on him? Wanting to sit in a dark movie theater with him, wanting to sit side by side with him and waste, what, two hours, two and a half hours, alone with him? Is this real? Am I honestly hearing things correctly? Tell me I'm mistaken! This can't be right!_

Assef looked down at me, that same level of disbelief expressed on his face that was on mine. Of all the things that he expected Hassan to say, that was certainly not one of them. "Can you believe this crap, _Liebchen_?" he asked in German, rolling his eyes. "What a crock of shit!" He turned back to face Amir and Hassan, switching back to Farsi easily. "The new Western?" he asked. Amir nodded, perhaps too nervous to speak. Or perhaps expecting Hassan to answer for him. He had no fucking issue doing so, after all. When neither boy made to respond, Assef continued on. "Funny, I thought Bollywood romances would be more you little queers' style."

I giggled loudly, making no effort to hide my feelings at Assef's sarcastic quip. I know, I know, call me a rude little bitch, but I can't help what I find funny, can I? Amir looked down at his feet, embarrassment evident upon his face. He opened his mouth, perhaps wanting to offer a rebuttal to Assef's comment, but not having the courage to do so. I almost felt bad for the poor lad, but I knew that Assef was right. Alas, it wasn't poor Amir's fault that he had no friends other than Hassan. I decided that I would attempt to bridge the gap between us.

Despite having only spent a few moments with Amir, I knew that violence and threats were not the way to about achieving my desires. Oh, of course, I could have laid hands upon him, I could have literally whipped him into shape - and maybe at some stage I would have to, but not right now. Not at the beginning of what I hoped would be a long and prosperous relationship. No, it would be better if I treated him as I did Adia. Manipulation and charm would be the order of the day.

"Amir jan," I said, taking a step towards him. Amir's eyes widened and he retreated back. I did not like that. I did not want him showing me any fear. Hassan, on the other hand, did not display any apprehension. I liked that even less. Hassan's lips set into a thin line, and he balled his hand into a fist - glaring at me, glaring at Assef, as though daring either of us to lay a hand upon his "friend". What a loyal, protective dog. But I'd have to make my feelings known about this. Better to deal with this now rather than allow it to fester and cause problems later down the line.

Amir looked at me. I wanted to reach out and place a hand on his arm, to offer him my friendship and comfort in a more physical way, but I figured that this would not be the thing to do. At least. not yet. Instead, I merely offered him a compassionate gaze. It was of the utmost importance that I got this conversation right. I had no desire to mess up with the boy, after all. "Do you and Hassan go see movies often together?" I asked.

It was a basic question, one that, on the surface, meant little. Just an attempt to make conversation. To the casual onlooker, I might well have asked, "do you and Hassan like eating food together?" or "do you and Hassan breathe the same air?" Just a question - that was all. But it was far, far more than that. It was me gently chastising Amir for wanting to play with Hassan. For wanting to be his friend. I just... couldn't come right out and say it. Assef may have been blunt in his views - and while I agreed wholeheartedly with my brother, I knew that now was the time for me to play "good cop" to his "bad cop".

"Uhm... uhm..." Amir formulated his way through an answer. "Uh, yeah, I mean... not all the time... but... yeah, sometimes, uhm..." In any other circumstance, I would have found his incessant pausing and hesitation forms to be rather annoying, and would have told him in no uncertain terms to answer me properly, but, of course, this was not the time for that. There was no point in being cruel when it would do me one better to be kind. You catch more flies with honey as the saying goes. "I mean... it's just... there's this new Western out and Hassan asked if we could go and well, I want to see it too so..."

He trailed off, leaving that final word hanging in the open air. His response left it wide open for me to come in there with another question, this one requiring much more of my charm than the last. I knew that the very inflection of my voice had to be just perfect lest I mess it all up and ruin any hope there was with Amir. I put on the most innocent and caring of voices. "I see. Well, I... I can understand that. I guess. But... don't you have anyone else that could go with you?"

There. I'd said it. I'd made the implications. That Amir was a poor, friendless nobody. The moment the words came out of my mouth, I wondered if they were the right ones. Maybe I ought to have phrased that a little differently. Was it too offensive? Would I have been better off using different words? Would Amir be upset at what I had just implied? Each nanosecond that passed without response was one that made me want to cry out in frustration. _Answer me,_ I wanted to yell. _For crying out loud, fucking answer me!_

"Not..." Amir eventually found his words, "I do... I mean... my other friends aren't available..." And that, dear reader, is what we call a lie. It was plain to see that he had no other friends, or, if he did, they did not care enough for him to take him up on the offer to go see a movie together. Were his other companions so fair-weather and fickle that he needed to hang out with a creature like Hassan just to not feel lonely? How pitiful. How tragic. The dear, misfortunate boy. His woes could melt even my cold heart.

 _This is it, Saria,_ I told myself, _this is where the game turns._ _This is the start of what may be either a beautiful future relationship or an utter disaster on both your parts. Do not let your charms waver - this misguided soul needs you. He needs you to guide him into the light, to teach him the proper ways. Be kind and open to this poor, lonely boy. He needs guidance and support, and who better than you to show him the way? It's time to play the game, Saria. And it's time to_ win.

Assef cleared his throat. I glanced back at him. His hand rested on the pocket of his jeans, on his brass knuckles. "What are you doing, sister?" he asked, of course, in German. Inclining my head toward Amir, I motioned that I wanted our conversation to continue unabated without any form of violence. Assef nodded. He didn't look too happy about it - but I knew that he would let me do as I pleased, even if he didn't quite understand my motivations just yet.

Back to Amir now. I gave him my most sympathetic gaze. "I'm sorry," I whispered, "I didn't mean to upset you, I... I hope I'm not bothering you, truly. But I must say, and please do forgive me if I speak out of turn, but it must be hard to not have other people to talk to. Don't you ever feel lonely? Don't you ever want to play with other children your age? Aside from just... Hassan... I mean." Hassan must not be counted as one of Amir's friends - this much I knew. I just had to make Amir realize that as well.

He frowned. My words were having an impact on him, of that I was certain. But to what end? Was he agreeing with me? Did he, too, think of Hassan as nothing more than a glorified toy with which he could assuage his loneliness? Or were his feelings for the Hazara boy something more than that? Oh, how I froze cold at the very idea. Did Amir consider Hassan... his friend? Did he care for him? _Could_ he care for him? Was that even possible? A Pashtun and a Hazara, being friends, it went against the fabrics of our great society. I hoped and prayed that it would not be true.

"It's fine. It doesn't matter," Amir responded in a downtrodden tone, his voice laden with bitter melancholy. He looked over at Hassan, who had not taken his eyes off of my brother for even a moment. As if worried that Assef might try to do something - because apparently my brother could not be trusted enough to let me have a peaceful conversation without becoming violent. That better fucking not have been what Hassan was thinking - if indeed there _were_ thoughts in that weird-shaped head of his.

Amir must have thought I didn't believe him, or maybe he didn't want my pity, because he quickly added, "Really, Hassan asked me to go with him. I would have gone alone if not for that." Oh, what a lie. What lies that came from his mouth. I knew that this was but a pathetic falsehood, an attempt to prevent me from feeling bad for him about his lack of friends. About his relationship to Hassan. But then... of course, he'd made no effort to stop this conversation. And as Hassan had said earlier, they would be late for the start of their Western.

I saw right through Amir, just like he'd gone transparent. I took another step closer to him. "You know, you don't have to pretend or to put on a brave face around me. I won't judge you, Amir jan. I know we've only just met each other but I can tell that you're the type of person I'd get along well with." At this, Assef snorted from behind me, but I ignored him. There would be time enough to detail my plan to him later. "I know what it's like to not have many friends..." Ah, the same line I used on Adia. Would he take it to heart too? "I mean, I've never had to resort to playing with my servants but..." I shrugged. "Anyway. It doesn't matter. The point I'm trying to make, Amir jan, is that... if you want to... then you have a new friend now." With one hand, I gestured to myself, tapping my chest, puffing a brilliant smile, teeth gleaming.

"Oh." That was the only word that came from Amir's mouth. He lifted up a hand, running it through his hair. Almost as if he'd been struck dumb by my offer. By the generosity on display here. He blinked twice, and made to speak again, but didn't. I waited for him to respond. A simple "thank you, Saria" would have done - would have been efficient, for now. But alas, I received nothing. Not even a smile.

This was beginning to piss me off. I wanted to be Amir's friend, I was offering him the chance to not waste his life away with Hassan. To have friends of his own social standing. Yet the way he was reacting, it was like he was trying to refuse my kindness while also trying not to offend me. Or, perhaps more accurately, not to offend my brother. Either way, he was certainly not as happy with my announcement as I would have liked him to be.

_Ungrateful little snot. I offer my friendship - what God himself would beg for - and this is how he repays me?! This is how he treats me? No thank you, no words of happiness, not even a smile! I do not expect him to fall on his knees and grovel in thanks but can I not have but a moment of acknowledgement? Can I not have something? Anything? I should wipe that nervous look off of his face. Maybe I ought to consider telling Assef to use his brass knuckles after all. Maybe a good pummelling will help him see the light. No, no, I can't do that. I like him. Guess I'll have to find some other way to teach obedience, won't I? And get back into the real world, Saria, Amir is staring at you._

"So..." I began, easily masking my irritation and internal fury. There would be time enough for Amir to learn what a wonderful gift I offered him. "You don't have to answer right away, of course, but now... now you have someone else to be your friend. You don't need to worry about other people, you know... thinking that..." I paused, glancing towards Hassan, "that Hassan is your friend. I mean, you know how they might whisper. A servant and his master. But... there's no need to worry. All will be well, trust me."

Amir looked frustrated. As though there were a million different things that he wanted to say, but he wasn't sure that he ought to. He moved back, away from me. "Right," he said, "alright then. I guess..." He paused, and took another step back. "Well... I should... we should get going now." He motioned to Hassan, never taking his eyes off of me. "Come on, Hassan. Let's just go home now. We've probably missed the beginning of the movie anyway. We can just go some other time. I'm not feeling up to it right now."

Hassan, finally, tore his gaze away from my brother. He moved closer to Amir, looking at him with a confused expression, "but... Amir agha... I thought you wanted to go watch a movie. What's wrong? Is everything okay? Is there anything that I can do for you, Amir agha?" He placed a hand on Amir's shoulder, "please, just tell me."

The Hazara barely got a word in before Amir reacted, in a way that I had not been expecting at all. He violently slapped Hassan's hand away from him, glaring at the boy. "Damn it, Hassan, did you not hear me? I said I want to go home! Now come on, let's just GO!"

Silence. Nobody moved. Nobody said a word. You could have heard a cricket chirping. You could have heard even the tiniest of sounds. Amir's harsh words reverberated through the air. His eyes widened, did he even consider that such a statement could come from his own mouth? Did he even think that he had it within him to act that way? It was a far cry from the timid and nervous boy that Assef described to me.

My brother laughed loudly from behind us. "Faggot's got a mean streak," he commented in German. "Didn't know he had it in him." I turned, and he looked at me, with a grin on his face. I grinned back - delighted, both because seeing Amir be nasty to Hassan was one of the funniest things that I'd yet seen, and because, within the depths of my heart, I was considering that Amir's attitude towards Hassan had been changed because of me. Was I sowing the seeds for trouble between them? How I hoped that would be the case.

Amir didn't seem to know where the change in his demeanour had come from. It was like a demon had taken over his body - the timid and nervous boy that now stood before us had not the daring nor the cruelty within him to be so hurtful. Judging by the flicker of remorse on his face, and the way that he was now desperately searching for Hassan's reaction, he didn't _want_ to be heartless either.

I focused away from Amir, and looked at Hassan. Wanting to know what the Hazara thought, what he felt about his master's words. If Amir's words had stung, he was doing a fine job of not showing it. He remained quiet, pensive, as though taking it in, measuring the words for some level of truth behind them. Was this a regular occurrence? Was their friendship not as deep and wondrous as I'd first believed? It was almost like he didn't believe what he'd just heard. Or maybe he was just so loyal he couldn't bring himself to consider the possibility his precious master didn't like him as much as he wanted.

All the same, there was no way that Hassan could question Amir right now. And he knew that. His shoulders slumped in utter dejection. He looked at the ground. "Very well, Amir agha. I'm sorry. We can go home if you'd like." He paused, looking at Amir with a compassionate gaze. "Maybe... maybe we can read together or..." Hassan trailed off. He was trying to appease his friend, but it looked like he was unclear on how to do that. Either way, he was trying to get Amir away from my brother and I.

Assef beckoned me over to him. I returned to his side and he wrapped an arm around me, drawing me in. "Well, I can see we've caused a domestic," he teased, "so we'll leave you boys to deal with that. I'm sure you'll kiss and make up in no time." I snickered at that, and Assef placed a hand on my back. "Come along, sister, let's go home."

"Yes, brother," I replied, looking up at him. I faced Amir, who I hoped would soon become a more permanent fixture in my life. "It truly was nice to meet you, Amir jan. I do hope you take my words to heart. Goodbye now." Amir didn't respond, but I'd let that go. I walked alongside my brother as we made our way back home. Assef was talking about something, but for this time, I wasn't really listening. My mind was still focused on what I'd just witnessed between Amir and Hassan.

Amir was beginning to worm his way into my heart, slowly creeping into the fathoms of the darkness within. With any luck, and with a little perseverance from me, I would soon change him and make him mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Coming up next, Saria attempts to tell Assef about her plans for Amir, but her brother's attitude towards her feelings causes tensions to rise to boiling point between the Ahmed siblings. Look for that coming up as soon as possible...
> 
> Thank you all again!


	7. When Tensions Boil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Saria met Amir and Hassan for the first time. She was instantly taken by Amir, developing her very first "crush" on the boy. An attempt to sway him to her side proved favourable in her eyes when he lashed out at Hassan. Now, we find that the events of that day still way heavily on Saria's mind, perhaps to her detriment...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I appreciate all of my readers, from all over the world. Any bit of support means the world to me. Again, please do be aware that I do not condone the thoughts, feelings and actions of the characters within this story, it is merely a work of fiction.
> 
> I do not own anything pertaining to the Kite Runner. Any characters, plot points and settings within the original novel are the property of Khaled Hosseini. I only claim ownership thus far of my original characters.
> 
> Without further ado, the next chapter! Please enjoy!

November 27th. I know I don't often transcribe the dates of my memoirs, but in this case, I simply must. I remember everything that happened this day with the utmost clarity. It is a day that brought about so many, conflicting emotions. Shame, fear, anger and terror. The events of this day are those that I will never, ever forget - and when you read what happened to me in its entirety, then you will come to understand why.

Days had passed since my interaction with Amir and Hassan, but still, my encounter with them was all I could think of. I played those events over and over in my mind, replaying them like a record on a loop. The memory of that day was at the forefront of my thoughts, more so than I ever expected it would. I scrutinised over the details like scenes from a film. Hoping that I could gain answers to the questions that permeated my brain. The main focus of my thoughts, of my rather confusing feelings, was, of course, none other than Amir.

I had never felt the way I did for Amir towards anyone else before. The butterflies in my stomach, the way my hair stood on end. The sweat coating my palms, my heart beating rapidly at the sight of him. The world appeared to fall away when first I laid eyes upon Amir. I had not been expecting to feel that way for him, most certainly not. After all, my only real introduction to Amir were the tales my brother had shared with me about the boy. His less than favourable opinions on Amir. I'd expected to feel nothing more than hatred for him. But it was far different from that. Far, far different.

He was so quiet, so timid, so... so nervous. That was why his treatment of Hassan confused me so much. From the stories Assef told me, those boys were as thick as thieves, close as brothers. Two friends who did everything together, for whom their status difference meant little to nothing. Why, just mere moments before we had approached them, they were walking with linked arms, laughing in jest and casually talking. How it disgusted me to even think about that. But was that not evidence that there was a deep bond forged between the two?

Or... at least, that was what I'd thought. For nothing brought me more confusion than the harshness with which Amir treated Hassan. I replayed that moment again and again. Amir changing his mind, not wanting to go see that Western with Hassan any longer. His face contorting in rage, hand lifting up to bat Hassan away from him like a disobedient pet. The cruel words that he'd yelled, literally _yelled_ , at the Hazara boy. To be perfectly honest, it reminded me somewhat of how my brother and I spoke to Hamilra. Well, perhaps less harsh, but still. Not too different, was it?

I wondered if I had anything to do with Amir's reaction. Not two seconds ago I was talking to the boy, manipulating him, telling him that he ought to have better friends than his servant. Acting like I felt sorry for his friendless predicament - which, in all honesty, I did. Offering him compassion, care, and a listening ear. In truth, I may have come across a little tactless, but it was all for a higher cause in the end, was it not? It was all to bring Amir over to my side. To our side. To the _right_ side.

Alas, while I may have liked Amir, yearned to create a future with him, I was not naive. I knew that there was much work to be done on the boy. I could not hope to fantasise about any sort of relationship or, dare I say it, the prospects of marriage, with Amir without first getting to the root of any issues that may crop up between him and I. After all, our differences were huge - these were not changes of opinion that could be brushed under the carpet. They were major, major issues. How could I hope to develop true feelings for a Hazara sympathizer?

But then... was he really a Hazara sympathizer? Did he really care for Hassan as the latter did for him? His treatment seemed to indicate the complete opposite. It was... strange. Amir did not appear to me to be the type of person who would treat anyone that way, much less his "best friend". He was not a bully, that much was evident. Even as he was saying the words, I could see that he was regretting them. He felt guilty, he didn't like being mean to Hassan. But mean to him he had been, and he could not take it back.

I pictured his face again, wondering if there was anything that I could recall that would give me a better explanation for Amir's true feelings. There was just... something in him that I admired. A hidden fire that lurked behind the timid, unsure nature. He may have been a coward to everyone else, but to me, I couldn't help but to wonder if there was a bravery in there that not even he knew about. Bravery... and darkness...

He may not have wanted to be so rude to Hassan, hell, he may have regretted it instantaneously afterwards, but all the same, that had been his first reaction. Did that not say quite a bit about him? In any case, I knew that I wanted to help him. If there was a darkness in Amir, then I would be the one to coax it out of him. I would be right by his side, guiding him, teaching him. Putting him on the right path, leading him. I would reach into his soul, pull out the darkest parts of it and show him that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with it. I would be his blessed and shining beacon of light, just as my Assef is for me.

Speaking of Assef, my brother was trying to get my attention. "Saria?" he asked, waving his hand in front of my face. "Saria, _Liebchen_ , can you hear me? Are you with me?" He paused, trying to look into my eyes. "Penny for your thoughts, little sister?"

Assef and I were seated across from each other at a desk in his bedroom. A deck of cards spread out in front of us. We were playing a game of panjpar, a popular card game here in Afghanistan. It was one of my favorite card games - though, I must admit that I was not the best at it. Rather, I bet I'd lost more games than I won against my brother, but he was so good at it that I doubt anyone could compete with him.

It was lashing rain outside. Not an uncommon feature of the weather here during the winter months - though for it to rain as heavily as it did that day was somewhat abnormal. Droplets fell liberally to the ground, hitting the gravel outside with that oh-so-familiar sloshing noise. I turned my head to look out, seeing grey clouds blanketing the sky for what appeared to be miles and miles. Watching the rain was almost peaceful to me, I could just let my thoughts wash over me, just as the precipitation washed everything clean outside.

My brother and I were alone in the house once more. I doubt that you're surprised, after all, how often were Mahmood and Tanya ever with us? If I didn't know any better, I'd say they wanted to avoid us. But that was of no matter, we wanted to avoid them too, did we not? This time, it was not a business meeting that kept our parents from being with their children. No, rather, it was a visit to Tanya's sister, Stella, who lived in Pakistan.

Stella and Tanya didn't often spend time with one another. Despite being sisters, they were not all too close in their relationship. I rarely if ever heard my mother talk about her sister, and the last time I'd seen Khala Stella was way back when I was a little girl - and she and her family had come down to visit us during Eid celebrations. Now, part of me wondered why Mahmood and Tanya had decided to go and visit them now, but I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. It really didn't matter, after all. Let them go, it bothered me not one bit. I was happy to be with my Assef, and nothing else mattered.

Just outside the closed bedroom door, I was made aware of the sounds of Hamilra's cleaning. Her sweeping brush moving up and down the hall, the sounds of her labored breathing and her footsteps echoing. This morning, Assef had given her the task of tidying up the entire house. From top to bottom, he'd said, and he'd made it abundantly clear what would happen to her if she didn't do exactly as ordered. Hamilra was suffering from a splitting headache, a migraine that she'd been dealing with from the moment she woke up this morning. Assef and I cared nothing for that, though. She was our property and it was her duty to clean up and tend to our every need, was it not?

"Saria?" Assef repeated. He tapped his hand against the wooden table, clicking his fingers over and over again to get my attention. "Saria, _Liebchen_ , are you with me?" he asked, "Earth to Saria!"

Finally, I broke free from the confines of my thoughts. Turning my head away from the window, I faced my brother, with an apologetic look written upon my features. I gave him a sheepish gaze, looking down for a moment before focusing my entire attention upon him once again. "I'm sorry, Assef, I've been elsewhere, as you can no doubt tell. Would you repeat yourself, brother? Please?"

Assef laughed. "Penny for your thoughts, sister?" he asked again, "you seem to be having a lot of them, you've drifting in and out since first we began our card game." He lifted up his own deck, holding them in such a way that I could not see what exact cards he held, though I had the feeling that they were the better deck than mine. "You know, you're going to lose this game of panjpar. Yet again."

I looked down at the cards in my hand. Indeed, I had selected the lesser deck. My numbers were against me, no doubt if we continued to play, Assef would come out the victor of this game. But... in all truth, I cared not for this. This game meant little to me. I guess my heart just wasn't really in it at the time. A shaky laugh escaped me as I lifted up a hand, running it through my golden curls. I placed the cards down, face up on the table where my brother could see them. A symbol that I was not interested and that I wished the game to end.

"It matters not," I said, pushing the cards away. "I'm not really feeling up to it at the moment, Assef jan. I guess... I guess I just have too much on my mind. There is too much at stake for me to put any of my focus into a card game. Mayhaps we can try again at a later stage. Right now..." I looked out at the rain once more, "right now, as I say, I am just dealing with too much to concentrate."

"Oh." Assef got up from out of his seat. He moved around next to my chair and knelt down in front of me, placing a hand on my knee. His gaze was compassionate, empathetic and loving, as it always was when it came to me. He rubbed his hand over mine, gently rubbing it with his thumb. "I figured there was something up. Is there anything that you wish to talk to me about, _Liebchen_?" He tilted my chin up and made me look at him in the eye. "This isn't about Adia again, is it? You know there's no point in concerning yourself on that matter."

I shook my head. How I wished that Adia was the cause of my concern, at least then I would know more in-depth the reasons behind my problems. But she was not. She had been far, far from my thoughts. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, sighing. "It's not Adia," I said, looking at my brother with a half-smile. "I wish it was, but it isn't. It..." A pause. What was I meant to say? How was I meant to voice these thoughts? "Really, it's nothing of true importance, I've just been having some thoughts lately."

Assef looked at me, arching a brow. "Would you care to share them with me?" How I tried to focus myself, but my brain betrayed me. The minute Assef asked me that, I was instantly met by yet another mental image of Amir. I thought back to his poetic hazel eyes and that timid smile of his, and I could not stop myself from turning fire engine red. Assef reached up and poked me in the ribs - my most ticklish spot - causing me to squirm away and giggle. "You see? You see?" he teased, "that most certainly does not sound like "nothing of importance". Come on, tell me what's on your mind."

What would be the harm in it? If nothing else, Assef might be able to help me figure out what to do here. He of all people would be able to understand my feelings, be able to help me out when it came to these plans of mine. We could work on converting Amir together, it could be yet another part of our deep sibling bond. I told Assef everything, so this would be no different. Oh, how hindsight is twenty-twenty in these matters!

"Well, if you insist on knowing." I hesitated for but a moment, before breathing out the name of the young man who had so recently captured my heart. "I was... I've been thinking about Amir Qadiri. About what happened when we met him last week. Do you remember?"

Of course he remembered it. That day had made an impact on his mind too, though not at all the same impact that it had on mine. Assef no doubt had forgotten completely about the entire thing. Well, now, his little sister would bring these ideas back for him. He quirked a brow. "Amir Qadiri?" he asked, removing his hand from off of my knee. I nodded. "Well, tell me, what about him? Why is someone like that on your mind?"

Once more, my teeth found their way onto my lip, biting down upon it. I looked down. My cheeks started to heat up, my heart fluttering. I closed my eyes and tried to formulate a coherent answer. "Uhm... uh... ah..." Tried being the most operative word here. So many thoughts ran akimbo through my mind, yet I was unable to make sense of any one of them enough to formulate a response for my brother. "Well... There's something about him, you know? Something... something that I saw within him."

"Something within him," Assef repeated, slowly, as though trying to understand what, exactly, I was talking about. He repeated the words under his breath, letting them sit on his tongue. "If by 'something' you mean a pathetic inability to act in any way like a man and an utterly disgusting love for Hazaras, then yes, there is definitely something within that piece of shit. But judging by the look on your face, that is not what you're talking about, is it, Saria?"

No, no, certainly that was not the thoughts that permeated my mind when I thought of Amir. I didn't even want to think of him as a "piece of shit". It felt... wrong, to refer to a boy that I was developing these feelings of compassion and, dare I say it, love, for. Not that I didn't agree with Assef's perception of Amir was correct though, and there were flaws in him that could not be permitted to remain. Still... "No, actually. I think... I think there's potential in him. I think that I could, if I put effort into it, change him. There's something there, Assef, and I want to cultivate him. So that he can come over to our side."

Assef scoffed. "And why, tell me, why do you want that? Why would you want someone like that over on our side? You think he could even understand things from our point of view?"

I looked at my feet once again, focusing my attention on my shoes as though they were the most interesting things in all the world. My hands found the hem of my dress and began to absently play with it, shifting from left to right on the chair. "I... I kind of..." I began, trailing off... "I sort of... I mean... well..." Fucking hell, this was getting ridiculous. "I kind of... ah... like him. You know, like... in _that_... way."

There, I'd said it. Admitted to my brother the feelings that I'd hesitated to even admit to myself. There was no going back now. Someone else, another living, breathing person - the most important living, breathing person - knew of my crush on Amir. Knew that I harbored romantic tendencies for the boy. I could no longer deny them, could no longer hide behind false platitudes or dare to convince myself otherwise.

Ah, but this did not make it any easier. My stuttering response made that clear. _Fuck,_ I thought, turning fire engine red, burying my face in my hands, and letting out tremors of awkward giggles, _I sound like a complete moron. This is why girl's don't talk about these things with their brothers, it's embarrassing. I can barely even get a word in without feeling weird about it. Yet, who else can I turn to? Who else can I go to for advice? Assef knows me so much better than anyone else, does he not? Even if he does not understand, at least he will be on my side. There is no need to be ashamed of this, right? Right?_

My brother didn't respond. I waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. He looked down at the ground, then back up at me. He rose to his feet and began to pace back and forth around the room. It was if he didn't hear a word of what I'd just said. Had he even been listening to me? Or had I just blurted out this embarrassing anecdote for no reason whatsoever? "Uhm..." I began, "Assef? Say something, brother, otherwise I've made a right fool of myself for nothing. What are you thinking?"

Assef rolled his eyes skyward, letting a deep sigh escape from his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest and barked out a laugh. Not unlike the kind of noise that he'd made when talking to Amir and Hassan. As though he were making a mockery of his little sister. He lifted his arms up, then let them fall to his sides. "Do you mean that?" he asked, genuinely curious. Before I could even get a word in edge-ways, he answered his own question. "No, no, you can't be serious. This has to be a joke, you're trying to be funny. You are..." He chortled again, "well, I must say, you've done your job then. Very fucking funny, sister."

I clenched my fists, rising from the chair and glaring daggers at my brother. "Assef, really? I let my feelings be known to you and your response is to laugh at me? You stand there and roll your eyes at me, telling me that what I think is meaningless? That what is in my heart means nothing, is that what are you telling me? You're making a fool of me, is that what's going on?" I had to remind myself not to lose my temper. Not with Assef; for him I would remain calm. "For your information, yes, I'm being honest here. I'm being very fucking honest. I _do_ have feelings towards Amir."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Assef gaped at me, staring like he were viewing me for the first time. As if I'd just sprouted wings and taken flight out of the window. He ran his hand down the length of his face, at least twice, bringing it up once more to rub his temples. The look on his face was nothing short of frustrated, if that were the correct word to describe it. "Seriously, _Liebchen_? Amir Qadiri... of all the people that you could have feelings for? Of all the boys in Kabul that you could fall for, you choose him? That _kunis_? Damn it, damn it, when the fuck did your standards get so _goddamn_ _low_?!"

Now this, this was beginning to piss me off. Who the fuck did Assef think he was, to pass judgement upon me, to dare to make light of my emotions as though they were nothing? No, I would not remain idle and allow myself to be spoken to in such a deplorable way, not even by my own brother. He of all people I expected to treat me with the respect that I deserved. Drawing myself up to my full 4'0 height, I fixed Assef with the meanest glare I could form and let myself be heard.

"No, actually, my standards haven't gotten low at all. They remain as high as they have ever been. And yes, I do have feelings for Amir. Am I a fool for believing that there may be potential for him to change. That there could well be more within him than just a 'Hazara-loving kunis,' as you like to refer to him as. You were there with me, too, were you not? You saw how he treated Hassan? You saw Amir's reaction to my words. I gave him something to think about, and perhaps with a bit of luck and work from me, he will learn to heed our truth." I threw up my hands and rolled my eyes. "But regardless, my feelings for Amir are my own, so I do not need you passing judgement upon me. I thought you were on my side."

Assef snapped back, jabbing a finger at me. "Well, if you didn't want me to know then you wouldn't have fucking told me in the first place, would you? You'd have kept your thoughts to yourself and not discussed with me this ridiculous plan of yours." Ridiculous? That was what he thought of me? That was the word he used to describe my ideas? My brother paced up and down across the room, his footsteps echoing as they stamped on the carpet. "Fuck this, Saria, you're too damn young to be thinking this way. You're only eleven-years-old."

Oh, now that lit a fire under my ass! If there was one thing I could not stand it was being treated as lesser than because of my age. Treated like some petulant child who did not know her own mind. I dealt with that kind of shit from Mahmood and Tanya so often, and I was not going to let my brother act the same way towards me. Assef would not, I repeat not, be allowed to speak to me in that way. Brother or not, I was going to defend myself!

"Too young?" I barked. "I'm too young? Is that how you see me? Some foolish child who doesn't know her own mind? Just a little girl who ought to be playing with her dolls? Huh? Huh?!" I laughed, taking a step closer to my brother. "I certainly was not 'too young' when you decided to expose me to violence or when you talk to me about wiping out the Hazaras. But now that I might have feelings for a boy, you decide to be the overprotective big brother and chastise me? Fuck that, Assef, fuck that! You know I'm more mature and more intelligent than other girls my age! And I'm not talking about running off to marry Amir right now, am I? No, no. I only want to work on him. To change him. Don't you always say that everything would be better if we had more people on our side? And now that I plan to do just that, you have a problem with it?!"

To his credit, Assef hadn't interrupted my entire tirade. He just remained where he was, blue eyes flickering, fists clenched and unclenched. When I was done, when the last word spewed forth out of my lips, he walked even closer to me so that we were both nose to nose. "I don't have a problem with trying to get people around to our ideology, if you'd listen for a fucking minute you'd understand that. I have a problem, Saria, and now I'm going to speak slowly so that this gets through your head - because - _Amir. Isn't. Good. Enough. For. You."_

If I had been annoyed before, now I was fuming. How dare he tell me what to do? How dare he try to tell me who was good for me or not? My brother was meant to respect my decisions, to be with me, to support me. Not turn against me for them. He had no right to belittle me, no right at all! With fists clenched, and my chest rising and falling rapidly, I let myself be heard. "And what gives you the right to dictate what is and isn't good enough for me? What makes you of all people some fucking moral authority on what is and isn't acceptable for me to think, say, or do? Am I not permitted to make my own decisions any more, is that it?"

"Calm it, Saria Adelah, if you would just let me explain-"

To this day, I do not know what, out of all the factors that might have contributed to my reaction, was truly the one thing that made me respond in the way that I did. Maybe it was being talked to like an infant, maybe it was being scolded for doing absolutely nothing wrong. Maybe it was the use of my middle name - something that usually only our parents did to belittle and scold me - being used by Assef to make me submit to his authority. Maybe it was all of those things combined. Either way, the active volcano that was Saria Ahmed exploded her rage like molten lava.

"Oh, shut your FUCKING mouth, Assef! Stop telling me what to do! NOBODY tells me what to do. And if you don't understand that, then guess what, you are no better than Mahmood."

There is crossing the line. There is bulldozing over the line. And then, then there is taking an atomic, nuclear bomb and destroying not only the line, but everything that stood on either side of it. Right then and there, I did the latter. Of all the things I could have said. Of all the nasty, horrible, vile, deplorable things I could have said to my brother, of all the ways I could have hurt him, that may well be the absolute worst one. To compare him to our father, to say that he, the person who loved me, protected me, cherished and guided me in all ways, was remotely like the father who neglected and beat us, was just... oh, I cannot even reminisce on this moment without wanting to vomit from guilt.

What was wrong with me?! To an outside party, Assef seemed to have no reaction whatsoever. His face was expressionless. But I knew that my words had cut him deeply. I'd hurt him, possibly in the worst way. Possibly in an unforgivable way. In that moment, all anger drained from me, leaving me with nothing more than an unbridled and unadulterated feeling of remorse and shame. "Assef," I whispered, "Assef... I... I didn't mean..."

I tried to reach out for him but he slapped my hand away. "I'm like Mahmood, am I?" he asked, his voice dangerously low. "I mean, wow, I never even considered that... thank you, little sister, for letting me know what you really think of me. I'm having trouble recalling the last time I ever laid my hands upon you or whipped you with my damn belt or anything of the sort, but I guess to you I'm no better than that scumbag."

"No, no, that's not-" I started, but he was not about to let me get out a word in my defence. Not that there was any kind of defence for what I'd just done.

"Ah, but if I'm like Mahmood, sister, then you.. you are Tanya Ahmed's little mini me, aren't you?" I gasped, hands flying up to cover my mouth. Was this what became of us now? Comparing each other to the parents that we hated so much? Dear God, how could this be? Assef wasn't done yet. He poked me violently in the chest. "Yeah, that's right. You are JUST like Tanya. Exactly like her, in fact. A pathetic, annoying, and infuriating little BITCH!"

My eyes widened, filling to the brim with tears. I hated myself for that, for showing weakness in a time when I should be strong. When I ought not to display even the moment of trepidation around my brother. This was not the moment to wet my cheeks, nor to be consumed by the guilt that was already threatening to beat me up from the inside out. Assef wanted to start war, to throw back disrespect? Then, why should I not oblige his desire?

I picked up the cards from off the table and hurled them across the room, narrowly missing Assef's ear by inches. They crashed to the floor and lay there, scattered. My breathing was laboured and ragged. I punched my fist into my thigh. "Is that how we think of each other?" I asked, perhaps more to myself than him. "Are we nothing more than a byproduct of our parents?" Assef didn't respond. I pounded the floor with my foot, once, twice, three times. "You stand there and act like you're so much FUCKING better than I, that you know more based on what? AGE? You think of me as some simple-minded little girl, you son of a bitch? Have you ALWAYS seen me as being like Tanya? Then you must hate the very sight of me."

Assef clapped mockingly. "Ah, see, not as idiotic as you look," he sneered. "Of course. Looking at you right now makes me sick. You can't let me be for five minutes. You cling to me like some pathetic little infant that can't do a damn thing for herself. I can't even STAND be around you right now. In fact..." He walked over to the door, throwing it open with such force that it cracked off the wall, almost coming off of its hinges. "Get the hell out, and stay the hell out."

Somebody else might've heeded his words, might have left immediately after that. But I was not just anyone. Time for me to stand my ground again. I rooted myself into the carpet, as though glued there. If Assef wanted me to leave, he would have to drag me out of there, because I was not about to go. Fuck that shit! I wasn't going to kowtow to his every whim, and if he thought that, well then, he could go fuck himself and I truly meant that.

"You have no right to tell me what to do, Assef," I retorted, "you want me to get out? You want me to leave? You'll have to make me, and I am not joking when I say that. Come on, if you hate me as much as you say that you do, then let's have it. Hit me, you do it to everyone else. Because I won't leave, I won't. And if you DARE try to fight against me, I'll damn well prove that I'm not the pathetic bitch you claim me to be."

That speech may have been courageous, but on the inside, I was petrified. I hated myself, and worst of all, I hated _Assef_. My hands shook, and I hid them within the pockets of my dress. I was trying to appear as though I held no fear, but quite frankly, I had a lot. I could have passed out from the terror that I held. Assef's eyes darted around the room, coming to a stop on the shelf wherein his brass knuckles rested. He kept looking at them, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. That more than anything frightened me.

Assef would never use those on me, would he? He would never lay a hand upon me, no matter if I had goaded him into it. And I know, I know, I had tried to goad him into it but... that was an attempt to defend myself. Surely he would not take me up on that offer. But then... his cruel words made me think otherwise. He had called me a bitch, after all, he had insulted me and told me I was nothing less to him than a pathetic brat. Was I to become some other nameless victim to him now? Someone that he could pick on and hurt?

The tears stung my eyes. They blurred to the point where I could barely see in front of me. Assef, sharp as a tack, noticed this and laughed mockingly. "Oh, are you crying? Did I upset you? Did I, you little pussy bitch?" He rolled his eyes. "God, you really are INFURIATING, aren't you?" He took a step closer, fist raised. "It would be in your best interest, Saria, if you would just get the fuck out and leave me alone." When I didn't move, he raised his fist higher. One move and he would have punched me right in the face. "Fuck off, Saria, FUCK OFF and leave me the HELL ALONE!" He pointed emphatically to the door. "I can't stand to look at you. GET OUT!"

I didn't need to be told twice. If he wanted me out, then out I would go. But I was determined to get another word in. "You... you can't stand the sight of me, brother?" I asked, unable to hide the sob in my voice. "Well, you know what? That makes the two of us." With that, I darted past Assef, before he could reach out and grab me, perhaps fearing that he might become physical.

"Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out," my brother snapped sarcastically. Out I went, hearing the audible thud of the door as he closed it with force. What to do now? I didn't want to go to my room, even being in the same house as Assef felt wrong in that moment. I just... I needed to get out. I needed to be away from this horrid place.

I rushed down the stairs, two at a time, pausing at the bottom step to adjust my snow boots, then opened the door and rushing into the street. It was still pissing rain, the torrents a representative of what I felt inside. I fumbled with the lock on the wrought-iron gates, sobbing as I attempted to open them. The moment I did so, I was gone, rushing out into the gravel-laden streets.

Where was I going? How would I get there? What would I do? I walked along in a complete daze, thinking too much but not thinking of anything at the same of time. Assef's words, his harshness, the cruelty that he bore towards me flashed before my eyes. His fist aimed at me; what would it be like to feel him connect with my flesh?He'd looked as though he did want to hit me, and you know what, really... in that moment, I would not have blamed him one iota for that. It would have been more than justified, especially in light of what I'd said and done.

Oh God, why did I have to be such a fucking idiot? Why did I have to be cursed with such a temper? If I had just listened to my brother... even if I didn't agree with his opinion, he deserved the respect for me to listen to him, did he not? Why must I lash out and so cruelly hurt the person who meant more to me than anyone else in the world? Why wouldn't I listen and not jump to conclusions? Why? Why?!

 _Assef only wants the best for you, Saria,_ a voice piped up in the back of my mind. That little voice that pipes up in the back of everyone's mind when they do something wrong. Conscience, that's what it is. For me, it is a voice that rarely, if ever, makes an appearance. I think it spends most of its time in hibernation, truthfully. On those rare occasions in which it does roar to life, it usually has something to do with Assef. He was - and is - the only human being on this planet who I feel true remorse for if I hurt.

Conscience spoke on, berating me. _He doesn't challenge you to piss you off, Saria. You expect him to just go along with your feelings for Amir? When all he knows of the boy is what he's seen of him day in, day out? All you had to do was stay calm and have a mature conversation, but oh no, that was not possible, was it? All he wanted to do was give you advice, because he love... loved you... and wanted the best for you. You just had to listen. But you didn't want to, did you? Instead, you start a fight that there can be no coming back from. You lash out and say the worst possible things, the most vile words you can think of. Great job, Saria. To compare Assef to your abuser. To HIS abuser. What a wonderful sister you are._

That wasn't to say that I didn't fight against those words. Assef was not a poor, defenceless victim, after all. He lashed back as good as he got, comparing me to Tanya, saying that I was like our harpy mother. Screaming in my face, threatening me, all of the hurtful words that he had said and done. Neither of us were innocent in this matter. But... Assef was more innocent than I. His cruelty was nought but retaliation to mine. I was the one in the wrong here, disgusting, abhorrent sister that I was. Did I even deserve that title anymore?

When it comes to Assef, I've learned that Conscience will always, _always_ win. Each word, each thought, only served to cripple me once more with guilt. To bring more tears to my eyes. I'd wipe one away, and two more would fall. I'd wipe those two away, and guess what? More would come. It got to the point that I wasn't bothering to clean myself up anymore. My tears were like a river, an uncontrollable waterfall.

Weighing up my options, I deliberated on what to do. I hadn't gone far - only about ten or fifteen minutes down the road. Going back home was an option. I could find my brother, throw myself before him and plead for the forgiveness that I knew could never be given, pray that everything would be okay again. Tell him that I was sorry and that I would take on any punishment he saw fit if only he would smile at me again. Or... or... I could keep walking and crying, wanting to be in his arms, but too scared to face him.

The idea of going home terrified me. I was too shamed, too broken up. Assef didn't want to see me again, and the least that I could do was honour his wishes. And so, crying my way through the streets won by a landslide. That was fine, up to a point. Until I got the feeling that someone was following me. No... that is wrong. Not just following me. _Stalking_ me.

How did I know I was being stalked? Well, that was obvious, and let me tell you why. It was how their footsteps matched in sync with mine, how their breathing even seemed connected to my own. I turned down various side streets, hoping to lose them, but guess what, that did nothing. The fear that crept through me was indescribable. It was... well, if you have never been followed, then I'm not sure I can accurately voice how terrifying it was. The goosebumps, the way my hair stood on end. I wanted to run, but part of me worried that if I did, I'd just make my stalker angry.

You need to understand, I had no idea who was following me. It may well have been some older man twice my age and size. I was too petrified to turn around and see for myself. If this person were to grab me, I would have no chance to fight back. Tiny as I was, what chance did I stand against an oppressor? Any moment now, any moment they would clamp their hand over my mouth and prevent me from screaming out. I hoped that, eventually, they would grow bored of this and go away... or, and this was the unlikely thought, that this were all in my head and there was nobody behind me at all.

I do have an overactive imagination, after all. Maybe this would be one of those times. But no, oh no. For I had reached a deserted alleyway and was still being followed. Nothing for it now. I was at a dead-end. Now this was pissing me off. How dare this person follow me? How dare they try to intimidate me? After the horrible morning that I'd just had? Now, the fear was gone. Whoever this person was, man, woman, it did not matter. They had crossed the damn line and I was going to face them.

"What the fuck do you want?" Fuming, I whirled around, ready to take a swing at my attacker. Only to find that it was not some creepy old man, as I previously believed. It was, in fact, a girl from my class in school. A girl named Zainab.

Zainab was one of my varying school enemies, of which I had quite a few. Tall for her twelve years, she had dark hair that she always tied back in a bun, a style that made her face look pinched and stern, much older than her time. She wore a perpetual scowl upon her face, which was more than often directed towards me. She'd had it in for me from the beginning of our schooling relationship, though I could not fathom why.

I had done nothing to Zainab. Much as I wanted to put her in her place every damn day, I knew this was not possible. To do so would raise suspicion on who I really was. So I had no clue why she hated me, and definitely enough to follow me all this way. Regardless, I was not going to be trifled with. "I believe I asked you a question, Zainab. And when I do that, I expect an answer. What the fuck do you want? I'm in no mood for any kind of shit, you fucking got that?"

No sugarcoating. No polite small talk. Just clear, concise and to the point. I was nothing if not blunt. Zainab smiled cockily and began walking around me, trying no doubt to be intimidating. "Oh, Saria, Saria, Saria. Always hostile, aren't you? I just wanted to talk. I can tell that you're in no mood." She reached out, poking my cheek with one finger. "Can't two friends just talk? Something's bothering you, isn't it? You've been crying. Why? What's upsetting the little baby? Huh?"

That bitch! How dare she mock me? Who did she think she was? "You're not my friend, Zainab, you hate my guts and I hate yours just as much if not more. It's none of your fucking business if I've been crying, or whatever I feel. You want someone to talk to, go find those idiots you hang around with, and just leave me the hell alone. Now move out of my way or do I have to make you?"

With that, I moved to get past Zainab, but she grabbed hold of my arm, her fingernails digging into my skin. Zainab shook me back and forth. "You little bitch, we aren't done talking. Not by a long shot. Did you think I followed you all this way just to let you go now? Oh no. Not at all. You don't move until I tell you to move, am I making myself extremely clear on that?"

I continued to struggle against her, trying to break free. "Get away from me, Zainab! You're really starting to piss me off! Get OFF!" But Zainab was having none of that. Raising her hands, she pushed me back, with enough force to knock me off my feet. I staggered into the alley wall, falling on my backside. My head lurched to the side, ears ringing, stars flashing before my eyes. I'd bitten down on my tongue as I fell and my mouth was filled with a metallic taste. Fury coursed through me, palpable, untameable, unmatched. All thoughts of preserving my image went right out the window. The beast roared its way to life.

"You fucking bitch! Push me? Put your FUCKING HANDS ON ME? LET ME SHOW YOU WHAT THE FUCK I CAN DO!" Getting back up, I screamed and lunged myself at Zainab, throwing us both to the ground. I kicked, clawed, bit and spat on her, pinning her down. Blind fury was the only thing guiding me at that moment. The desire to see justice done for her crime against me. To see her hurt, because I needed to hurt someone right then.

Zainab and I wrestled and hit each other for a few more minutes. As we fought, I was momentarily distracted by the sound of a car backfiring. I jumped, turning to discover the source of the noise. It was a simple lapse in judgement, but it was enough for Zainab to get the upper hand. I felt myself launched off of her, knocked onto my back as she delivered a fierce uppercut to my jaw.

Before I could stand to defend myself, Zainab flung her entire body weight against mine. I was unable to fight back, to do anything. Zainab grabbed the collar of my dress, slamming me up and down, over and over. She punched me in the face, then moved down and slammed her fist into my abdomen. She stood and kicked me into the ribs, pounding her foot onto my chest. It was the worst pain that I had ever, ever felt in my life.

 _Let it end,_ I thought, curled in a ball as Zainab continued to rain punch after punch, scratch after scratch and kick down upon me. _Let it end. Let it end. Let. It. End._

Eventually, it did end. I must have passed out, causing Zainab to become bored of her violence against me. After an eternity trapped in blackness, I came to once more. I was still lying in the alleyway. My body was tormented by agony. Everything hurt. My face, my chest, my arms and legs. I lay there, stunned. Did that really just happen? Had... had I really just been beaten up? And by Zainab no less? I crawled to the alley wall and leaned against it, bile at the edge of my mouth. Struggling upright, I turned my head to the side and violently threw up, expelling my breakfast and lunch onto the ground.

That little bitch really did a number on me! I could hardly move, but I had to. There was no telling where Zainab had gone to, and I was in no condition to face her for round two. I had to get out of here. Tripping over myself, I half-crawled out of the alleyway. Looking around, I could see that there was nobody to be found. My attacker was long gone. Now, now I had to go home. But not through the market, no. I didn't want to be seen by anyone. Instead, I would made the arduous journey through the barracks and go home via that shortcut.

Every step was pain. Every movement burned. Everything made me want to collapse in a heap and just let death wash over me. I know, over-dramatic yet again! But I managed to cross the barracks, stopping often to rest, leaning against the old military tanks for support. I was thankful that nobody else was there to see me. I needed not the lewd comments of teen boys or the sneers of perverted men.

The high walls of my mansion's compound eventually came into view. Relief washed over me. Home. I walked to the back gates. Leaning on them with my shoulder, I prayed they would be open. If not... then there was no chance for me to get in. I didn't think I had the strength to go around to the front. But fate was with me, and the gates creaked open. I stepped inside.

The back gardens, covered in ice and snow, were a welcome sight. I walked towards the back door, which I could see was ajar, thank God. Before I reached it, my foot slipped on a patch of ice and I went down, landing on my front. "Oh fuck! Can nothing go right?!" I groaned, more pain burning through me. I attempted to stand. Down I went again. Struggling to one knee, I punched the ground in frustration. If Zainab would not defeat me, then I would be damn sure that a little bit of ice wasn't going to get the better of Saria Ahmed.

Finally, my struggle led me to the back door. As I said, it was ajar. No doubt Hamilra had gone out to do some job or another - do you think I cared one bit? Into the kitchen I went, dripping rain water and blood. It was at that very moment that Assef rounded the corner. I heard him before I saw him, the harshness in his voice making me want to run again.

"Hamilra, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand fucking times. Stop tracking ice into the house. You stupid Hazara bitch, why must you never listen? I swear, do it one more time, _one_ more time! I'll knock you into next fucking week, you dumb-" It was then that he saw me, and froze, dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped, and he blinked. "... Saria?"

I swayed from left to right, more blood dripping from the injuries to my face. In that moment, all thoughts of being strong disappeared. I'd exhausted all of my inner core and now, I was no longer able to stand up on my own power. My legs buckled from underneath me, like two wiry, breaking stilts. I collapsed onto the tiles, falling to my knees in front of my brother, choking out his name. "Assef... Assef..." His name spewed from my lips as though I were drowning and that was the only thing that could keep me afloat.

"SARIA!" My brother cried out in horror, rushing to me. He collapsed to the floor, throwing himself around me. He grabbed at my face, his eyes wide, seizing me under the chin. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Sister!" His hands grabbed at me, holding me close, as though perhaps thinking he could take my pain for himself. Now I knew I must have been in dire straights. My brother was a veteran when it came to injuries, having caused them for many others himself. For him to react this way to mine meant only that they were nothing short of horrific. "What happened?! Who did this... who did this to you?!"

But I could not tell him that just yet. I fell into his embrace, wailing like a newborn. "Assef, oh my God, Assef, brother... I didn't mean it! I didn't mean what I said, not a word... not a word of it... dear God I didn't mean it... I'm such a fucking idiot... please forgive me, please, please... you don't even..." I turned my head to the side and coughed violently, though luckily nothing came up this time. "You don't even have to look at me or love me again but please... please don't hate me... please... PLEASE!"

Assef was so tender with me, wiping the blood from off my cheeks, leaning his forehead against mine. I shook within his embrace, sobbing out my apologies, begging with him for the forgiveness that I was so afraid he would not give. All thoughts of our argument had long disappeared, and I yearned for nothing more to let my brother know how truly sorry I was. I would have cut myself open, torn myself asunder, if it meant that I could take back the words I'd spoken.

The world melted away in that instance, crumpled on that kitchen floor with my brother. Assef hushed me. "Oh sister," he whispered, attempting to keep the tremors out of his voice. "You need not say another word, _Liebchen_. I forgive you those insults, I forgive you everything that you did." I croaked something else - incoherent - and he pressed me tighter to him. "Dry those tears, my Saria, you need not cry for my sake."

I looked up at my brother, needing to see his face. Needing to know, to see for myself if his words were genuine. I didn't trust myself to believe his words on face value, not right now. Reaching out, I placed my hand against his cheek and looked into his eyes. So blue and vibrant and expressive. So full of love, openness and remorse for me. It was a look that told me I was still his Saria, still his most precious and treasured little light. "Assef..." I whispered.

He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, eyes narrowing when I flinched at the movement. "And now... I must ask your forgiveness, my love." He made me look him directly in the eye. "No, no, don't tell me you deserved it, as I know you're well about to do." Had he read my mind? "You didn't, not one bit. I... I meant nothing of the cruel words that I said to harm you. They were spoken in anger, and if I could take them back, God knows I would do so in a heartbeat. No matter the personal cost. You are not our mother, you are not any of the hurtful rhetoric I spoke against you, and I am truly, truly sorry for even dreaming such cruelty up, never mind saying it to your face. Will you please, please forgive me, my love?"

His desperate pleas hung in the air. I knew right then and there that he meant them - every single word. Assef only referred to me as "my love" in situations where either things were dire or he needed me to recognise how important I truly was to him. Of course, this situation was both of these. I gulped, nodding once. "Always, big brother. Our fight has been cutting me up inside. I... I could never truly hate you. I haven't got it in me. I love you. I love you. Oh, I love you so much!"

"I love you too," Assef breathed. "I love you more than anything, truly." He pulled away from me, and looked down at the injuries that I'd received. The blood saturating my cheeks, the bruises on my arms and legs, the hand-prints on my neck. In all truth, since I'd cared more about apologising to my brother for our fight, I had all but pushed my own suffering to the back of my mind. Now that forgiveness had been granted and given, all of the pain flooded back. I tried to speak again, but was unable to get the words out.

To his credit, my Assef didn't need to be told what to do. "Let's get you some medical attention, shall we?" he asked, putting his hands underneath my legs and lifting me up into his arms. Trembling all over, I let myself be scooped up and carried over to one of the kitchen chairs. Assef sat me down, telling me to remain there. He threw open the doors to one of the cupboards and pulled out a first aid kit. I watched him open it, taking out sterilising lotion and wipes. "Can you tell me what was done to you, sister?" he asked, walking over to me. "What, exactly, happened here?"

I blinked owlishy at him. Assef returned to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. He applied the wipes to the cuts on my face, causing me to flinch as the stinging sensation burned. His benevolent gaze held such tenderness. The truth of my ordeal he would receive, no more and no less. "I ran out of the house after..." I trailed off, waving a hand in the air. "Well, you know... I needed to get away for a time. But then... I... I got the feeling that I was being followed."

Assef continued to listen intently, now moving on from washing the cuts on my face to tending to the bruises that covered the rest of my shattered little frame. "I tried to lose them but it didn't work. So eventually I found myself in an alleyway, and.. and... well..." Another flinch. "Do you remember Zainab? The girl in my class that picks on me all the time?"

"How could I forget?" Assef took a handful of bandages from the first aid kit and began to wrap them around my injuries. "Zainab..." he spat her name as though it were the most disgusting word under all of Heaven and Earth. "She did this to you, _Liebchen_? She beat you? She attacked MY sister?"

I nodded, sniffling. "Yeah. I... I mean, I tried to fight back, really, I did. But she got the upper hand and the next thing I know, I was lying in the asphalt and she was kicking the living shit out of me. Punching and slapping me, stomping on my chest." I touched the offending area, wincing at the pain that shot through my ribs. Assef gently moved my hand to the side, fingers checking me for any broken ribs. From the look in his eyes, I surmised that I was in the clear on that regard.

"Then, I must have passed out or something, because when I came to, she was gone. I... I summoned all of the strength I had within me and... I got up and walked back here. Back home."

Assef finished up cleaning and bandaging me. He placed a hand on the back of my head. The look in his eyes was nothing short of monstrous. "I am going to beat that fucking whore until she forgets her own name," he promised. "I will rip her in two, she _will_ regret this, I can promise you that."

My brother's convictions spoke volumes of his love towards me. That he would be willing to deliver, what he believed, would be a just punishment to my oppressor. But in my eyes, this was not enough. This went far beyond any other transgression that had ever been done to me before. A mere beating would not be enough. I was not interested in an 'eye for an eye'. No tit-for-tat. This deserved the ultimate punishment, did it not?

"No, Assef," I said, reaching out to take his hands in my own. He looked at me, almost unable to believe I'd just said those words. "I appreciate your willingness to defend me, brother, truly I do. And I know that you want to help me see vengeance for what was done to me. But, but... what was done to me... I cannot allow her to get away with a mere beating. That is not enough for me, not by a long shot."

I beckoned my Assef closer to me, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "I want her dead, brother. I speak no _laaf_ when I say that. She forfeited her right to life when she laid her hands upon me. I want her to die. And, this I swear to you, I will be the one who delivers that fatal blow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> n the next chapter, Saria seeks the ultimate vengeance against Zainab for her crimes, with the help of Assef. But will her first murder really go off without a hitch, or will she have bitten off more than she can chew?
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads this story! I appreciate all of my readers, truly, and send you all my love! Look for the next chapter coming up as soon as possible.
> 
> Thank you again!


	8. God's Vengeance Reigns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Saria's feelings for Amir caused tensions to boil between herself and Assef, leading to the Ahmed siblings getting into an intense argument. After leaving the house in tears, Saria was accosted and beaten by Zainab, a classmate of hers. Now, we find that some time has passed and a fully-healed Saria seeks revenge for what she went through...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own any characters, plots, places and events in the original Kite Runner novel; those belong to Khaled Hosseini. Any OCs and original concepts found in this story I do claim however.
> 
> Please do not that I do not necessarily condone the actions, speech, thoughts and opinions of the characters in this story. This is and will remain solely a work of fiction, so please take that into note when reading.
> 
> With that said, let's get into the next chapter, and please enjoy!

They say that time heals all wounds. That was true, when it came to my beating, at least in the physical sense. The road to recovery was not an easy one. Once I'd come down from the heart-stopping adrenaline rush of what had happened, all that I was left with was the pain. The aches in my limbs every time I made to use them. The pounding, splitting headache from where my skull cracked against the ground. The way I struggled to breathe without it causing me untoward agony. In truth, those first few days after my ordeal were the worst to get through.

Part of me even considered the possibility that I may need to go to the hospital. That my injuries were severe enough to warrant professional treatment. But the thought of doing so was enough to make me ill, in all truth. Luckily, when I broached the subject with Assef, two days later, he merely pressed a kiss to the side of my head and gently reassured me: "If you'd needed to go, I would have taken you the minute you got home. You don't need a doctor, Saria, you'll be fine. I promise." What more reassurance d I need than that?

Speaking of my brother, he was a true, genuine godsend during this time. Every step of the way, he was there with me, helping when I needed it, supporting me on those days where the pain made me feel sick and it was all I could do not to throw up. He sat with me every night, holding me close and speaking soft, gentle words in my ear to lull me into sleep. During those times when he did have to leave the house, he made it abundantly clear to Hamilra that she was to watch over me, and tend to my every desire, no matter what it was.

As the seconds turned to hours, and the hours to days, the physical agony began to dissipate, leaving me with nothing but the deep-rooted, psychological scars to contend with. The rage that I felt against Zainab burned through every fibre of my core, boiling at the fissures of my very soul. In all my eleven years of life, I had not ever been attacked in such a way before. Oh, I was no stranger to pain, how could I be, with the amount of times Mahmood's belt had imparted a lesson on my tender flesh.

But this was different. This was a vile, disgusting act of violence, perpetrated against me by a haughty, annoying little bitch that had been a thorn in my side from the very first day we attended classes together. Zainab was always trying to undermine me; tossing snide comments my way, elbowing past me in the halls, doing her best to get me into trouble with the mullahs. Which, unfortunately for her, didn't work. How I regretted that I'd not had the sense to teach that idiotic whelp a lesson long ago.

Maybe then she wouldn't have dared to lay her hands on me. Maybe if I'd shown Zainab her place from the beginning, she would have known not to mess with me. But I had not done that, and I'd lived to regret it. That would not happen now, though. She had crossed the line and now, she was going to pay for it. That was the sole thought running through my mind, the thought that kept me going through the healing process.

Zainab would die for what she did. Zainab _had_ to die for what she did. Assef may have been content to deliver a beating to the girl, and no doubt he would have made good on his promise to pummel her within an inch of her life, perhaps doing worse harm to her than he'd done to Farsef, but to me, that was not enough. That could never be enough. How could it be, when Zainab had dared to leave my broken, battered form lying in that alleyway like a piece of trash? When her actions were so totally unforgivable, how could I not yearn to deliver the punishment that she so richly deserved?

I know, I know, murder is a crime. Murder is wrong. I should not wish to end anyone's life, regardless of who they are or what they might have done with me. In the eyes of the world, though Zainab may have harmed me first, I would be the true monster if I snuffed out her life, cut short her fuse before it had even begin to run out. There are those who would say that there can be no excuse for taking the life of another human being, and who, no doubt, would condemn me from the moment I laid bare my dark intentions.

To those people, I have but one word to describe them: hypocrite. Sure, those who condemn me would not be able to kill someone themselves. Of course they wouldn't. Society views murder not only as a crime, but as _morally wrong._ Those people, even if they'd had the balls to commit the act, would not be able to live with the guilt. I cannot, and I will not, sugarcoat what the act of killing a person truly is. I knew what the moral and ethical consequences when it came to ending Zainab's life.

My actions would not just destroy Zainab's life, after all. Murder does not only affect the victim, no, it affects those closest to them, too. Zainab had a family - a mother, a father, grandparents, cousins. She had friends (though how that was possible I'll never know). She had people who loved and cared for her. By killing her, I would be destroying each of those people's lives. Because of me, she would never get the chance to grow up. She would never graduate from school, never go to study at university, never be married, never create a family of her own. Her parents would be forced to deal with the pain who of burying their only child.

What kind of monster does it make me that I so willingly aim to cause such wanton destruction to so many lives? What am I in the eyes of the morally justified but a beast, evil, the devil incarnate? Ah, but tell me, for those who dare to judge me, let me ask but one question; who among you have never _thought_ of killing someone?

Let's just get right to the point. The answer to that is yes. Who can deny it? Everyone has those thoughts, whether or not it be about a friend, a co-worker, or a family member. I don't care who you are, or how 'good' of a person you purport yourself to be, we've all harboured those dark feelings. But you push those thoughts away, you hide them within the deepest recesses of your mind. You plug your ears, cover your eyes and pretend that all is happy and perfect in your life, never admitting to yourself the truth of your own inner monsters.

How many people would kill to save a life? How many would do it in self-defence, or to protect someone that they love? I ask, is that any different from what I planned for Zainab? Was murdering her not an act of self-defence? Who knows if she planned to attack me again, to finish what she had started? What if the next time she did so, I did not fare so lucky? What if I ended up hospitalised or, God forbid, if I were the one who died? I could not let that happen; I could not take that risk.

So... call me a monster, call me evil, call me cold-blooded. Call me any name under the sun, it makes no odds to me. At least I stand up and admit who I am. Hand on my heart, I lay bare my darkest impulses, here and now, for the world to see. Maybe the rest of the world can make do with thoughts of violence, but I am not like that. My thoughts needs must be turned into actions. I was not held back by the weight of conscience or guilt, because, in this instant, I had none.

I felt nothing for Zainab. No empathy, no compassion, no forgiveness, nothing. Nothing but unadulterated, unbridled, passionate _hate_. Truly, in that moment, there had been no other person for whom I could have reserved more depths of my loathing for. I yearned to see justice meted out against her, and I knew, oh how I knew, that I was the only one who could truly mete out said justice. Who else could I turn to?

My parents? Fuck that. They weren't even there for me, and even if they had been, be assured that all they would have done would be to scold me for going out in the rain and getting my clothes dirty. Tanya would have lectured me for hours on that sin alone. And Mahmood, well, he might have taken it upon himself to deliver to me a more physical form of correction. Yes, even though I'd been beaten. The belt does not take such things into consideration, and discipline waits for nobody, not in the Ahmed household.

Could I tell the mullahs at school? Zainab's actions _might_ be classified as bullying, after all, and if I spoke up about how she'd been treating me... well... was that not what everyone says you ought to do when you're being bullied? But that wouldn't have gotten me anywhere. All Zainab would have gotten there was a slap on the wrist, maybe a detention or two. Perhaps she would have been suspended or expelled, too, if I were lucky. The police sure was fuck wouldn't do anything about it, that I can most definitely attest to.

No, this was my only option. The blood that spilled forth from my veins was too precious a commodity for the one who dared to spill it to not be punished for her actions. This was a task that I must undertake, out of respect for myself, for my honour, my name. And I knew there was but one person in the world who I would understand, who I could trust and who would stand right by my side even as I carried out this most heinous of tasks.

Oh, and how wonderful my Assef was when it came to helping me. During the time that I spent healing, he would walk the streets and spy on Zainab, whenever he could find her. He would follow her, always keeping a safe distance so that she didn't know anyone was stalking her. He'd observe where she went, who she was with, all of the people that she talked to. Much like a Just Because, only without yours truly there with him.

It didn't take long before Assef came back to me with all the information we needed. I was seated in bed, reading, when my brother came in. He leaned against my door-frame, arms swinging loosely by his sides. "I have news, _Liebchen_ ," he said, making his way across the carpet to sit down next to me. Immediately, I closed my book, placing it to one side so that I could give my brother my full attention.

"Is it about Zainab?" I asked, though there was no reason to do so. What else would he have news of? "Have you found a way for us to end her, brother? Oh, please, tell me all that you've learned!" How eager I was to learn more, to understand all that my brother had studied about our enemy.

Assef nodded. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, drawing me in close. I rested my head against his chest, and he absently played with a loose strand of my golden curls. "There's a riverbank," he said, "a small creek beyond the barracks. Zainab... she spends time there at around lunch time, every day. It must be a special place for her or something." He rolled his eyes, and my lips twitched. "It's somewhat hidden, so... I'm thinking we can sneak up on her there, kill her and bury her. Nobody will be any the wiser."

He trailed off, leaving the image of our upcoming cruelty hanging in the air. I looked up at him. "So, we'll kill her in her favourite spot," I said, closing my eyes and letting a soft hum escape from my lips. "How very ironic." _Provided there's nobody else around,_ I thought, but didn't share that apprehension with Assef. Of course, part of me did consider the possibility that we were dicing with fire - and if we danced too close to the flame, we would get burned.

Yet I would push these thoughts aside. We were both intelligent, brilliant, cunning and determined. Together, there was nothing we could not accomplish, and we would deal with any issues that cropped up if and when they arrived. Assef must have had the same ideas that I did, as he drew me close, kissed the top of my head, and tilted my chin so that I was looking at him in the eye.

"Of course, _Liebchen_ , you just concentrate on getting well again. You've made immense progress over the past few days. You should be raring to go within the next, oh, how about a day or two. In the meantime, we can work to ensure our plans are ready to be put into motion."

"That day can't come soon enough, brother," I replied with a smile. And indeed, it couldn't. If I'd had to wait for even a second longer than I already did, then I would have gone stark raving mad. Fortunately, whether it be through the excitement of my upcoming plans or some other reason, I powered through the pain and came through on the other side. And when my injuries were healed, it came time to get vengeance that I so richly deserved.

I remember that day, a Friday to be exact, with pinpoint accuracy. How could I not? It was the day I became a murderer for the very first time. The day that I learned not only had I the means to take a life, but also the determination and strength of character to see it through to the end.

That morning, I knelt by my bed. One of my old school rucksacks was open and I was shoving everything that I would need into it. These items included; a lavender pinafore and change of tights just in case of blood-spatter, a pair of gloves for fingerprints, a small shovel with which to bury her, and several black plastic bags in which to wrap the body so as to properly dump it. That one I must not take credit for, t'was my brother who got that idea. It's what he used to do with the bodies of those pets we used to have as kids. Fitting, given that Zainab _was_ little more than an _animal_.

Oh, and I almost forgot the most important item of all; the murder weapon! Yes, lying on my bed, glistening in the sunlight that filtered through my half-open blinds, was a large butcher's knife stolen from one of the kitchen drawers. As with all of the cutlery in the Ahmed home, it was clean, stainless steel. Ah, but not for long! Closing my eyes, I envisioned forcing it into Zainab's chest, hearing it squelch as it made contact with her skin. I imagined the look on her face, her eyes wide, the colour draining. Would she cry? Would she beg? Oh, I couldn't wait to find out!

I continued to pack my bag, shoving my tights, the bin bags and a spare pair of shoes into it. After that, I grabbed my pinafore and balled it up, stuffing it into the rucksack. It almost felt like I was packing for a holiday. Well, I would be sending Zainab on a one-way trip, wouldn't I? A smirk formed on my lips at the crudeness of my internal remark, and I slowly began to zip the rucksack up.

It got about three-quarters of the way closed and then... it got stuck. My teeth grit in frustration, and I shook the bag vigorously, up and down, back and forth, trying to fix the issue. I couldn't just let the bag as it was. What if the zipper broke while I was chasing Zainab down? What if all my clothes and equipment spilled onto the ground? That would've been a fucking disaster, I couldn't let that happen.

"Come on," I muttered, struggling with the zipper, narrowing my eyes into slits. Nothing was working. "Come on, for crying out loud! For fuck sake! Stupid, worthless piece of crap, why does nothing I own work the way it should? DAMN IT! GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!" A growl of anger escaped my lips and I punched the bag, my tiny fists hitting against the nylon repeatedly.

A chuckle broke me out of my reverie. I whipped around, a little on edge, to see Assef standing in the doorway to my room, arms hanging loosely by his sides. He raised a brow, his lips twitching. He looked at the bag that I was punching, and shook his head. "Your voice sure does carry when you're annoyed, _Liebchen_ ," he said, crossing the length of the room to kneel down beside me. "What's wrong, huh? Why are you attacking your rucksack? You know, that's not what you're meant to be killing today, right?"

He was trying to cheer me up, to keep me from losing it, but so tense was I that I could only manage a tiny, half-smile. Turning from him, I gave the zipper one last push. Voila, it closed! I gave a small whoop of delight and moved the bag out of the way. "Sorry, Assef, I guess my emotions are just all over the place today. I mean, why would they not be, given what I... what we're about to do. The task that we're about to undertake."

Assef looked down for a moment, an unreadable expression in his blue eyes. He put a finger to his lips, tapping it. "Yes, about that," he began, taking my little hands in his. "About... about Zainab..." I blinked. _What about her,_ I thought, but before I could say those words aloud, to voice my own opinions, Assef got in there with the rest of his statement. "Saria, are you _sure_ this is what you want? Are you sure that you _truly_ want to kill her?"

His words took me aback. Out of everything I thought he would say, that was certainly not even close. Nowhere on the list. Where was he going with this? Why was he asking me this now, on the very day of the murder? Did he expect that I would change my mind, that I would just let Zainab go? I blinked. "Assef, forgive me, brother, but why are you only bringing this up now? We've been planning this for days, have we not? And now you're getting cold feet? I do not understand."

My brother gently cupped my face with his hand, looking deep into my eyes. "I know," he said, "I know it seems a bit off that I would question your willingness to go through with this now, given that we've had so many days to plan. It's just.." Assef trailed off. He reached over my bed and picked up the knife, turning it over and over in his hands. "Seeing this weapon, seeing you preparing everything, it... I guess it's truly hitting me what we're about to do. That we are going to take someone's life. Not that I have a problem with it, Sar -" he cut across me before I could question his moral compass - "I don't, God knows the bitch deserves it and I fully support you on this. But, as your brother, I have to look out for you. I have to ensure that you know this is _really_ what you want."

I didn't respond. Assef continued on, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. "Because right now, it's not too late to turn back. I mean that, _Liebchen_. I won't pass judgement on you, no matter what you decide. If you want to change your mind, then that's fine. We'll chase her down and I will deliver the worst beating that stupid whore has ever suffered in her life. I'll break every bone in her body, and leave her suffering in the dirt. And if you do want her dead, then that's what we'll do. For you, _anything_. I just want you to be sure about this."

It would be a lie on my part to say that his words didn't give me pause for thought. Did he not think I'd already weighed up the pros-and-cons of my plans? Did he not think I understood just full well what I was going to do, and what it would make me? But I couldn't blame him for his concern. Assef did everything to protect me, even if that meant protecting me from a decision that he worried I may come to regret. Still, I wanted to assuage his fears, to let him know there was nothing amiss.

"Assef," I whispered, squeezing his hands gently in my smaller ones. "I appreciate your words. And I know you're concerned about me, and I love you for that." He nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. His gaze was compassionate as always, listening intently to my words. "But I've given this a lot of thought, and..." Here it came. I took a deep breath. "I want to do this. No, scratch that. I _need_ to do this. I have to kill Zainab. She beat me to a damn pulp and if I don't take extreme action, if I don't take her life in retaliation then... then I feel I'm saying I deserved what happened. And I don't... I don't deserve it... do I?"

My voice quavered on that last question, and I paused, furrowing a brow. I didn't deserve what was done to me, right? I didn't deserve to be beaten and left lying on the ground. I didn't deserve to suffer, to be humiliated and made a fool of. No matter what. No matter if I had so cruelly insulted and hurt my brother's feelings earlier that day. Ah, was I getting cold feet? No, of course not. But now that Assef had questioned my willingness, there was a part of me, my conscience perhaps, that questioned if I should have been punished. Oh, how my emotions were turning on a dime, flicking on and off like a light-switch. Was this how every murderer felt their first time?

Before I could say another word, Assef drew me into an embrace. He pressed a kiss to my head. When he pulled back, he looked me directly in the eyes. "No, Saria," he said, both hands on either side of my face. "You didn't deserve what Zainab did to you, okay? Not at all. I didn't mean to insinuate anything of the sort and if I did then I apologise, most sincerely. I just wanted to be sure this was truly what you wanted, for your sake, not for anyone else's. This decision is one of enormous magnitude and I didn't want you to go through with something so permanent only to regret it later. But looking in your eyes now, I can tell that you're certain, and that's all I need. I'm right here with you, my beloved sister. I'll support you, no matter what." He smiled, diffusing the tension, and playfully tapped my nose. "Now, come on, let's stop waxing poetic and get on with it."

Everything was falling into place now. Now that Assef and I had said what we needed to, now that we knew we'd support each other, I felt infinitely better. With Assef by my side, there was nothing I couldn't accomplish. With one last smile at my brother, I got to my feet with renewed vigour. "Meet me by the front door, Assef. I'll be down in one minute, I promise."

Assef nodded, stood up, and left the room. I heard his retreating footsteps as he walked down the stairs, then the noise of the door unlocking. Once again, I went over the mental checklist of what I had in the bag, ensuring that all I needed was in there. Once I was certain I was fully prepared, I skipped to the closet, put on my shoes and coat, then skipped back pick up the knife.

Can't forget this now, can we? I thought, holding it up. I tucked the knife into the inside pocket of my coat, zipping it up. Picking up the bag, I slung it over my shoulders and began the walk downstairs. I bounced down, two at a time, completely full up with adrenaline. Assef stood waiting, the front door already open and ready for us to go out. He smiled at me, extending his hand. "Come on, _Liebchen_. Let's go give this bitch what she deserves."

We left the house. Assef locked the door, then slipped the key into his pocket. Hand in hand, we walked down the gravel-laden drive, neither of us speaking a word. I guess both of us had much weighing upon our minds. The straps of my rucksack dug into my shoulder blades. I reached up to adjust them. As I did so, I couldn't help but to feel a little anxious about the items inside. Even though the knife was in my coat, what I had in the bag could still be construed as suspicious. I glanced to the sky and whispered a prayer that the zipper wouldn't break.

The snow crunched loudly under our feet as we crossed over the road. Assef took the lead here, guiding me on where to go, which way to turn. We made our way to a barren patch of land, overlooking a large hill. "Come on, _Liebchen_ ," Assef said. "The creek she goes to is just up that hill there." He pointed to it. "If I've done my research right, she should be there by now."

I glanced up at the hill. It looked steep, and I knew that it'd be a bit of an effort to get up there, especially considering my tiny legs. But there was no other way to get around this, it was the only way to get to Zainab, to pull off our efforts without the risk of being seen. Therefore, I would bind my nerves with steel and do what was necessary. I inhaled deeply. "Well, let's not keep her waiting any longer, Assef," I replied, and we made our way up the hill.

By the time we reached the top, I felt a little out of breath, and I could see Assef felt the same. No, we were not unfit by any stretch of the imagination, but damn if that hill wasn't fucking steep. It did give a beautiful view, however, landscape that stretched for miles, ice patches white upon the ground, the little outlines of houses and buildings in the distance. I could have admired the beauty of nature for hours, but now was not the time for that. I had a mission to undertake. And there, kneeling by a small brook, her focus taken by the pebbles she threw into the gently rippling water, was that mission in the flesh.

Zainab sang to herself - a loud warble that sounded to my ears more like a cat being strangled. I rolled my eyes, pointing towards her. "She ought to be killed for that godawful noise alone," I said in German.

He answered back, also in the language of our mother's native tongue. "Agreed, _Liebchen_. No wonder she's out here alone if this is the kind of shit she does." Assef took my hand and squeezed it once, then twice, a gesture that it was time to do this. "Come on, sis." He pressed a finger to his lips. "Stay quiet now, so she won't hear us."

"I don't think that's gonna be a problem," I quipped, but placed a finger to my lips anyway. Ensuring that we remained as stealthy as possible, Assef and I crept down the hill, quiet as mice. Zainab continued to hum, playfully throwing stones into the water. So naive, so pathetic and gullible. She had no idea what was to befall her. Well, I would put an end to that. Bending down, I lifted up a pebble and hurled it at Zainab's back.

It struck her with pinpoint accuracy, causing her to whirl around. She glanced this way and that, before her gaze finally came to rest on Assef and I. The moment they did, her eyes widened in surprise. "Saria...?" she asked, yet she wasn't looking at me. No, I was, as of yet, no threat to her. Why would I be? The tiny, helpless victim of her bullying ways, what threat could I possibly be to her? No, her fear was directed to Assef, who stood beside me with his arms crossed over his chest.

The minute she saw him, the colour drained from her face. Her lips parted, her eyes almost bugging out of her skull. "What... what are you doing here?" Her voice came out as stutter. She glanced back and forth, from Assef's face to mine. "Saria, what the fuck? What... what is _he_ doing here?" Her tone was accusatory, her eyes narrowing. She was trying to be tough, but the apprehension was more than clear in her every mannerism.

Assef sneered. "Oh, what's wrong? Can't I have a few words with the girl who attacked my little sister? Hmm? You got a problem with that, Zainab? Do you?" He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, fishing out his brass knuckles. _Of course he brought them,_ I thought, watching him snap them onto his hands. _And look at Zainab, bitch is about to shit herself with fear. Oh, it's going to get a lot worse, you little cunt. A_ lot _worse!_

"I... I..." Zainab spluttered. She raised her trembling arms, desperate to protect herself. Assef took a step forward, fist raised. Within moments, he would be close enough to touch her. I just remained where I was, watching this all unfold. My brother had a plan, this I knew, and I put my full and total trust into him when it came to seeing it play out. Assef made yet another step. The moment he did, Zainab, realising the gravity of his intentions, took action.

Whirling around, she began to run. She dashed across the creek, over the rocks, up a small barren patch of land. Assef looked at me. His eyes glinted, the same mischievous look that he always got during at Just Because. I didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. This was it. Here, the fun could truly, truly begin. We said not a word to each other, merely taking off after Zainab at the speed of light. The hunt had begun.

That was not to say that it was an easy chase, though. Zainab must have sensed that we had ill intent towards her, for she ran like the hounds of hell were behind her. Darting up yet another hill - though not quite as steep as the previous one - she looked left and right, trembling, as if hoping to gauge which way she ought to turn. I watched with baited breath, to see what she would do. Assef and I continued to run after her, gaining with every step, yet never being close enough to seize our victim.

"Left," Assef said, pointing ahead. "She's going left, _Liebchen_. She's headed for the barracks. Come on. If we hurry, we can cut her off before she reaches them." He caught my hand and half-dragged me towards the top of the hill. Not unlike how he had dragged me along some weeks ago. This time, I was not complaining, of course not. I did my level best to keep up with him, not wanting to stop for even a minute. There was no second to waste, lest we allow Zainab to get away. There could be no chance on this earth that I would ever dare to let this happen. And I knew that my Assef wouldn't permit me to feel even the slightest disappointment today.

We turned a sharp left, noticing Zainab as she continued to run. The barracks were coming into view now. Only a few more meters to go. There was a thick patch of briars that ran around the barracks, an entrance that would lead us to her without the bitch even knowing we were coming. Was that not the best plan? To cut her off, make her think that she had gotten away, that she was in the clear, and then jump out to "surprise" her. But ere I take another step, I was cut off, by Assef's loud, disbelieving exclamation.

He gesticulated in wild frustration. "What is she doing?" he asked. "What... what is she doing? Where the fuck is she going? She wasn't meant to fucking go that way, stupid cunt!"

It was a little unsettling to hear how angered he was becoming. He'd stopped running and I did too, looking up at him, my confusion notably expressed upon my face. Clearly, whatever was happening now was throwing a bit of a wrench in our plans, though I had yet no idea what that was. I was soon to find out, however. Assef pointed to where Zainab was running.

Instead of heading near the barracks as she was meant to do, so that we could easily cut her off, my victim had rushed towards a plot of land so far unforeseen. This was a place that neither Assef nor myself had ever gone before. Indeed, up until that moment, neither of us had any idea that such a place even existed. Zainab turned a corner once again, disappearing behind some thicket. She was now completely out of view, as if she had vanished into thin air. I let out a moan of frustration, jumping up and down, pounding my fists into my dress.

"Damn it!" I screamed, my hair-trigger temper getting the best of me once more. "What the fuck? What the FUCK is this? She wasn't meant to go that way. What is she doing? Where did she go?! Son of a motherfucking bitch, what do we do now? WHAT DO WE DO?!" Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I jumped from one foot to the other. This was such a fucking complication! If she didn't go to the barracks, then where would she go? Where _could_ she go?

My frustration continued to boil over. Were it not for Assef, I doubt I would have found the strength to continue in this mission. Maybe I would even have thrown in the towel. Yet my brother, the guider of my soul, the one who deigned to support me even when hope appeared lost, stepped in to rescue me from myself. He caught my arms, holding them at my sides to prevent me from lashing out in further rage.

With a tense yet understanding countenance, he pointed to where Zainab had run off to. "She may not have gone where we expected her to, but she can't just vanish, now can she? We follow her like we planned, and we find her. We find her and we fucking end her, just like we planned. Okay?" Assef pulled me towards him, wrapping me in an embrace, pressing his lips to the top of my head. "Now calm down, please. This isn't the end of the world. You see? There she is."

Indeed, there Zainab was, half-crawling through some terse bramble, dirt and leaves clinging to her shirt. Now that she was back in sight, all of my fervour returned tenfold. No, a little setback would not get the best of me. My face set in determination, I chased after her again, with Assef at my side. Zainab turned left, then right. I could almost taste her emotions, palpable as they were. How ironic that she was now the one being hunted. She was now the frightened victim. I could almost laugh at that.

Zainab rushed towards a long, rickety bridge. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere for her to go but forward. And that was exactly what she did, tripping and staggering the whole way. "Oh, you're running out of options, Zainab, we're coming for you!" I mocked, speeding up. Assef and I crossed the bridge. My legs were cramping, my heart was pounding so hard I feared it may burst forth out of my chest, but that didn't stop me. Nothing, I repeat, _nothing_ could stop me! I ran across the bridge - jumping from the steps at its end. Having not gauged the distance of my fall, I landed on my knees with a thud.

"Fuck!" That was all the attention I would give my pain. Bounding to my feet, I gave not a second thought to the contusion that may soon form upon my knees. I grabbed Assef's hand, gesturing at Zainab. "Let's go! Let's go!"

How long had we been running? How long had Zainab attempted to escape our clutches? It felt as though the entire day had passed just by these moments alone. Only by adrenaline alone was I surviving now. My goal was in sight, just out of reach, and I would fight through any bit of pain and exertion to get to it. Zainab's life was mine. She could run all she wanted, but there was no hope in this world or the next, for her to survive this day.

There was a large, barren patch of land, mud and snow, that led up to a huge, derelict, abandoned house. I could barely see it in the distance, but judging by the weeds and graffiti covered walls (not that I could yet read what said graffiti was) nobody had lived there for quite some time. Ah, did I need to be a mind-reader to know what Zainab's thoughts were, the moment that house came into view? Was this her chance? Had she found a place to be safe? As if!

She ran towards the house, Assef and I hot on her tail. "This is it, Sar," Assef said, running alongside me. "We'll corner her now, there's nowhere she can hide." The laughter was evident in his voice, and I found myself smiling along with him. Zainab vaulted over the small, rickety fence, with us behind her. She ran towards the house. Now we were close enough to one another that I could hear her. She whispered a prayer as she lunged for the door of the house.

"Be open," she muttered, her voice pitching with tears, "Be open, please God, please God, give me shelter! Protect... Protect me!" Fortunately for her (well, for now) the door creaked open and she made her way inside. She hightailed it up the stairs, taking two at a time. I was soon after her, not even bothering to grab the handrail. The house looked as though it had seen better days, obviously nobody had lived here for decades. But that was of no matter.

At the top of the stairs, my brother and I finally had Zainab cornered. She froze, looking between us. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, focused solely on the brass knuckles that rested still upon Assef's hand. Oh, but she was soon to learn that he was not the true threat of this hour. "Go away!" she whispered, backing up, her hands out. "Go away, leave me alone! What's wrong with you two?"

She looked around, desperately, trying to find some way to escape. Assef arched a brow. "There's no way out, Zainab," he said, "nowhere to run, not anymore. So you may as well face us."

Not wanting to do that, at least, not yet, Zainab stepped back again. She reached out, blindly fumbling with the doorknob of one of the upstairs rooms. It was one of those doorknobs that opened when you twisted it, and now it did so with minimal effort on her part. Zainab wobbled into the room, toppling backwards through the creaking open doorway and landing with a thud on her ass.

We entered the room swiftly after her, Assef kicking the door shut behind him. It looked to have once been a child's bedroom - a small cot lay half dismantled in the corner, children's books strewn around. I removed the bag from my shoulders and tossed it aside, the knife remaining secreted within my coat pocket. Zainab was lying, dazed upon the floor, her eyes wide. She grabbed the bars of the cot, wobbling onto her unsteady legs. She was out of breath, doubled over. "What do you want...?" she asked. "Why are you doing this? Why are you chasing me? What do you want from me?"

Assef walked towards her. "What do we want?" he began, "well, Zainab. You attacked my sister. You beat her within an inch of her life. You left her bleeding in the dirt. Did you honestly think that this would be the end of it? Did you think that I - that _we_ \- would not desire retribution for that?" He reached out, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her closer to him. She shrieked, and he cracked her in the mouth, causing her to blubber like the recreant she was. "Your actions have consequences, you cunt, and you're going to answer for them today. But first, you owe Saria an apology, and you WILL give it to her."

Zainab looked at me. Her mouth parted. I wondered, in the back of my mind, if she would apologise. If she would express regret for what she had done. Not that it would have made a blind bit of difference to me, and Assef knew that too. I deserved an apology, but Zainab also deserved to face the consequences for what she had done. But right before an those words of remorse could be formed, courage swelled through the depths of Zainab's soul.

She must have been shamed to behave as a coward before, and now was trying to make up for it. The girl continued to struggle violently against my brother, hitting out at his iron-grip. Her face contorted in rage, and she screamed - literally _screamed_ \- against me. "NO!" she growled. "No, I'm not going to apologise. I won't! You chase me all this way just to get some sick revenge? What are you gonna do, Saria? Gonna have your big brother beat me up? I'm not sc-scared of that-" Didn't sound like it, judging by her stutter. But she continued unabated. "Fuck you, you sick little bitch! You deserved everything I gave you!"

I'll admit, I was a little confused by her outburst. Was this not the same girl who had just run from us? Now she was cornered and her instinct was to lash out when she ought to be grovelling for mercy? Alas, maybe this was that oft-touted "fight or fight" mechanism that one deals with when in impending doom. She'd already exhausted all of her flight, and now, trapped like a caged animal, there was nothing for it but to fight back.

Alas, what she didn't count on, was the fierceness with which my brother would defend me, even if only from harsh words. He punched Zainab in the stomach, hard enough to buckle her legs. She dropped to her knees, moaning in agony. If I'm not mistaken, I think I even heard a rib crack. Assef reached out and, with his free hand, seized her hair, forcing her into an upright-yet-still-kneeling position. He narrowed his eyes at her, then looked back at me. "You're not making this any easier on yourself, Zainab. Do as you're told. Apologise. NOW."

Yet again, she refused, this time going so far as to spit upon the ground as she told me, in no uncertain terms, that I should "go fuck myself". Assef looked at her in disgust, then back to me. "Looks like this bitch is too tough or too stupid to give you the apology you deserve, sister," he admitted, tightening his grip around her neck. "I think she might need a bit more incentive, to be honest. Care to give her some?"

I knew exactly what he meant. This was it. This was my time to shine! Assef stood back, removing his brass knuckles and placing them back into his jean's pocket. They would not be necessary, not today. With methodical movements, I unzipped the lining of my coat. I took a step forward, keeping my gaze focused on Zainab the entire time. Oh, if only she knew what she was in for, then she would not dare to be so brazen. I stared her right in the eye, pulling the knife from the lining of my pockets.

The moment she saw the blade in my hand, that I held aloft, poised to strike, Zainab let out a high-pitch, terrified cry. Gone was the tough, bratty and arrogant girl who sought to defend herself through any means possible, and in her place was a snivelling piece of human misery. How funny it was that this knife, a mere tool, could create such a reaction in her. Assef moved away from her, leaning against a wall, not even needing to hold her upright. She fell onto her hands, beginning to sob. "N... Nooo..." she wailed. "No, no, Saria, no, why...? What are you doing? What do you have that... kni..." She couldn't even say the word, "what do you have that for? What are you going to do? Please don't... please... I'm sorry, Saria... I am! I'm sorry... Please... please... NOOO!"

Her apology was cut short as I lunged forward. With a rage-filled cry, I hurled my entire body onto Zainab, my sixty-seven pounds of body weight knocking her backwards and onto the floor. "It's too little, too late, Zainab." I pinned her down, resting my elbow against her throat, while she kicked and screamed, calling out to anyone who would help her. Yet there was only one person who could hear her aside from myself and there was no way Assef would ever come to her aid. I raised the knife above my head, never breaking eye contact with her for even one nanosecond.

Zainab screamed as I brought the knife down, plunging it into her throat. She gargled, choking on her own blood, which was now spilling out from her. Tears ran down her face. She made to lift her hands, as if to wipe the torrents of blood away, but was unable to find the strength to do so. I brought the knife down again, this time in her stomach. I stabbed every bit of her that I could find - her chest, her stomach. The girl continued to flail around, partly trying to defend herself, partly out of some involuntary reaction. At one point, her right arm flew up, managing to loosely catch my hand. I slashed the knife across her palm, so deep into the skin that I could see bone.

"Die!" I snarled viciously, continuing to plunge the blade in and out of her flesh. All I could think of was ending her, making sure that she suffered. All of my humanity, my compassion, any bit of conscience that I may have had, it all went out the window in those moments. I barely even remembered that Assef was in the room with me. No, the only person who had my attention now was the bleeding, agonised young girl facing death at my hand. Just a little more now, she couldn't hold out for much long. The light was beginning to disappear from her eyes. Her colour became pale. The ability to struggle was leaving her.

She emitted a gargled death-rattle, her hand falling limp to the side, hitting the floor with a sweet totality. Her eyes rolled into her head, exposing the whites. I stared down at her, blinking. "Is she dead?" I asked myself, stepping back from the corpse I'd just created. Zainab looked inhuman. Blood coated her throat, her clothes, her face. She was hacked and slashed to bits. Almost unrecognisable as a person. Her face was contorted in terror.

Assef walked towards me, muttering under his breath. He stood there for a moment, squinting, looking down at the body. "Damn..." he whispered, awed. "Damn it, Sar, it... I didn't expect that. Wow... you really gave her what-for, didn't you...?" He nudged her with his shoe, lip curling at the gross sight before him. I just blinked at her as though in a daze. I couldn't believe what I had done.

Could such a gruesome act of fearsome violence truly come from the hands of an eleven-year-old? Could a tiny, four-foot-tall little girl with cute plaits and an adorable pinafore really have just committed such an act? Assef turned to me, his blue eyes glinting. "I'm so proud of you," he said passionately. "I know... I know I tell you that often, _Liebchen_ , but I mean it. None more so than today. Look at her, look at what you've caused. You are _incredible_ , darling sister."

Those words, his kindness, the joy that came from knowing my brother was proud of me. I grinned, clasping my hands under my skin. "Thank you, my Assef," I whispered, looking at him with a grateful stare. "I can hardly believe I've done this. But fuck if it doesn't feel good, seeing that creature there, dead by my hand." I looked down at Zainab, sticking my tongue out at her. "Who's the pathetic little victim now, you dumb bitch?" I asked, then laughed when of course I received no response. "This is what happens when you fuck around with the Ahmed siblings."

"Indeed, _Liebchen,"_ Assef replied, laughing. Oh, how I would have stayed in that moment with him forever, drunk on the revelry of my actions. Yet work still remained to be done, and it was Assef who set me upon the right path once more. Clearing his throat, he took a step back from the crimson cadaver and turned to face me. "Saria, must as I'd like to stand and admire your handiwork, we do need to, ahem, get rid of her. You have the bags, don't you?"

"Over there." I pointed to the rucksack. Assef walked over and picked it up. He brought it over, unzipped it and started to root around for the necessary items. It took nought but a second before he found them, procuring the bin liner and making his way to Zainab. I watched him open them and start manhandling her corpse inside, not caring to be even the tiniest bit gentle. He managed to stuff her head, arms and about three-quarters of her torso in, but her legs were still out. Assef turned to me. "Saria, come here and help me, would you?"

I nodded, returning to him and kneeling down. Assef pointed to one of the bags. "Pick that up," he said, "wrap her legs in it. Make sure she's completely hidden, okay? Once you've done that, I'll tie the bags up and we can move on to phase two of disposing the body."

"Okay." It was all I could say. I was still reeling from the high of my actions, unsure if I would ever truly come back down to Earth once more. My hands trembled as I held open the bin liner with one hand and lifted Zainab's legs with the other. They were a dead weight - no pun intended - and I struggled to manoeuvre them in the way I needed. I grit my teeth, swearing under my breath as I forced her into the bags, pulling them up over her legs, forceful, though not so much as to tear the liner. Eventually, her entire body was inside. "She's all yours, Assef."

Assef tied the bags up, with expert accuracy, making sure that every part of Zainab was securely inside. Once that was done, he bent down and dragged her to the side, placing her by a slanted bookshelf. As if she were an afterthought. He then looked at me, taking in my appearance for the first time. "You need to get changed, Sar," he said. "I mean, no offence, but you're a bit of a mess right now. I'm sure there are other rooms in this place, so you go in there and clean yourself up. Then we can get going. Go on now."

Glancing down at myself, I noted that Assef was entirely correct in his assumptions. The front of my dress was covered in blood. It speckled my arms, dripped all over my tights. There was no way I'd be able to walk through the streets looking like this. If anyone were to catch sight of me, heavens knows what they'd think. What they would do.

I picked up my rucksack and walked out into the hall. Looking up and down, I tried to find another place in which to change. There were several closed doors lining the halls - no doubt the bedrooms of this home's previous tenants. I pushed open the door to one of the rooms and stepped inside. Just as I suspected, another bedroom. This time it looked to be the master bedroom, no doubt where a husband and wife slept. Much like the room in which I had murdered Zainab, this one must have seen better days. On some subconscious level, I found myself wondering who had lived in this house before, and what had happened to make them leave.

No time to wax poetic on the history of some unknown family, though. I had to get on with it. There was a large mirror in the corner, and I stood in front of it, looking at myself. If I'd thought I was a mess before, now I could see just how unhinged I looked. The blood coated my face, the ends of my hair. _Gonna need to take a long bath when I get home,_ I told myself, wiping clean the strands on my hair. _Right. This is the less fun part of the game, Saria, but still it needs to be played. Get to it, chop-chop._

Peeling the gloves from my hands, I balled them up and tossed them to one side. They landed on the floor, and I made the mental note that I would have to pick them up later. Couldn't forget them, that would not be a good idea. I reached back, undoing the ribbon on my dress and pulling it loose - opening it up and letting it fall to my feet. It was odd, really, being here, standing completely naked in a stranger's home. Almost made me feel sort of 'naughty'. I know, I know, a bit weird of me to think this way given I'd just murdered someone.

I wiped the blood from off my arms and legs, using my old dress as a cloth. Had to ensure that I was completely clean, had to make the effort. Once the blood was gone, I retrieved my change of clothing from the bag. How lucky I was to have brought it. Humming under my breath, I pulled the dress over my head, then set about changing my tights and shoes.

With that done, I bent down to pick up my old dress, clothes and shoes. I was just about to put them back into the rucksack when there was a knock on the bedroom door. "Fuck!" I swore, almost jolting out of my skin. "Assef, is that you?"

His laughter was clear in his response; I could almost envision him rolling his eyes behind the closed door. "Well, it's hardly going to be Zainab, Saria," he retorted. "Are you dressed, _Liebchen_? May I come in?"

I walked to the door and pulled it open. "I'm dressed," I said, "everything okay, brother? What do you need from me? Is there a rush?"

Assef shook his head. He extended his hand to me, pointing to the dress balled up in my hand. "No rush, _Liebchen_. It's just there's quite a bit of blood on the floor where the body was, and, uh, I think we ought to clean it up before we dispose of the body. And, well, since we didn't bring any cloth..." He arched a brow. I could tell what he was getting at. Guess all hope of ever wearing that dress now went out the window. Ah, well. That didn't matter. But I did have one question for my brother. I voiced it to him as we walked back to the room where Zainab was.

"Assef, you talk of disposing the body..." I glanced down at the bag-wrapped cadaver, "may I ask why? I mean... can we not just leave her here? It's not like there's anyone else going to come to this place, is there?"

He placed a hand on the back of my hair, leaning down to kiss my temple. " _Liebchen_ , look at what we've found in this place. This place could be a godsend for us in the future. But if we leave Zainab here, well... there's the chance that she may be found. You know her parents are going to contact the police when she doesn't come home tonight. I'm not going to say they'll find her here, but there may be a chance that they will. So we need to get her out of here. We need to take her somewhere away from here where there won't be any suspicion."

Ah, of course! That made sense. We'd struck gold by finding this place, this hidden gem that nobody but us knew about. We could use it. It could be ours. Yet the only way to ensure that it remained our little secret was to get rid of any evidence that any untoward crimes took place here. It was with this thought in mind that I dropped to my knees, scrubbing up the blood from off of the floor.

I brought up my thoughts to Assef as I did so, keeping my back turned to him so that I could remain focused upon the task at hand. "It's so weird, isn't it?" I said, wiping the last remnants of blood from the floor. "That all of this blood, all of it, it all came from one person. I mean... all it took was a small kitchen knife and I made this big mess. It feels... odd, in a way."

Assef extended a hand to me, gently raising me back to my feet. "I think today's been a surprise for both of us," he said, almost a little bluntly. He walked over to Zainab's body, grabbing the bags around where her waist may have been. "Now come on. Let's go get rid of this bitch. We don't want her stinking up our new hideout, now do we?"

There was an underlying sense of urgency in his voice. As if he wanted to get this over and done with. I supposed I couldn't blame him - we should be getting home soon anyway. Assef bent down, grabbing hold of Zainab and starting to drag her from the room. I followed along, keeping a safe distance to ensure I didn't get in his way. We reached the top of the stairs and Assef froze, hands on his hips. "So, uh, how do we do this?" he asked, "hmm. I mean, I'd just throw her down, but I don't want to tear the bags."

He looked at me, for a brief moment, as if he wanted to suggest something but thought better of it. "Suppose I'll just have to carry her," he said, "you come down after me, _Liebchen_. Okay?" I nodded, and he picked Zainab up, easily, slinging her over his shoulder as we began our descent. Assef occasionally aimed the bags so that Zainab hit the walls, slamming into them with a loud, reverberating thud. Not out of any sadism, of course, the girl was dead and could feel nothing - but the uncaring way he treated her corpse did make me laugh.

We reached the bottom of the steps, and Assef turned to me. "Mind getting the door, _Liebchen_?" he asked, gesturing to it.

I nodded, doing exactly that. "Are you sure you're okay to carry her, Assef jan?" I asked, giving my brother a sympathetic glance. "It won't be too difficult for you? Perhaps we ought to find a wheelbarrow or something in which to dump her so you don't have to overexert yourself..."

Assef smiled gratefully, his tone soft in response. "You're sweet to care so much for me, _mein liebchen._ But don't worry about me, it's fine. I don't know if we're going to find a wheelbarrow or anything about this place. And we need to get going, don't we?" He tightened his grip around Zainab's corpse, ushering me out the door. "She's not that heavy, really. If she does, then we can just drag her along."

And there, my worries were assuaged. I didn't want to cause my Assef any untold suffering. But knowing that he was okay with carrying Zainab's body, was he not the most generous soul that ever walked this earth? I wanted to express just what his help on this whole day meant to me, but I pushed that thought to the back of my mind. For now, we had places to be. Things to do. And it was better if we could just get on with it.

We left the house. I made sure to close the door behind me. Then, just as before, Assef and I went back the way that we'd come. Although this time, the journey felt somewhat... calmer, I guess you could say. Assef seemed to be having no trouble in carrying Zainab - and I wondered if on some level the adrenaline that I'd gained from killing her had passed on to him. A funny thought, I know. But I can't help but to feel that way. My brother and I were so connected in all things, it definitely felt that way.

Eventually, we made it far enough away from the house so as to properly dump Zainab's remains. Assef dropped the body, kicking it to one side. The moment he did this, I removed my bag from off of my shoulders, pulling the shovel out. "Let me dig her grave, big brother. You've done so much work in helping me, please... let me take this burden to dispose of her."

Assef nodded. "As you wish, _Liebchen_. But if you need any help, you need only ask. The ground looks soft enough that digging this grave shouldn't be too hard. Make sure it's deep enough, alright? Make sure that she fits in there."

"Of course, brother." Those were the last words spoken between us in that moment, as I set to work. Burying a corpse was nowhere near as fun a task as committing the murder in itself, but it was still something that needed to be done. I dug, and dug, a sheen of sweat covering my forehead. _Damn,_ I thought, rolling my eyes, _wish I'd brought a bigger fucking shovel._

Noticing that I was struggling, Assef walked over to help. He knelt beside me and began to scrape away more dirt. In tandem, we worked, finally creating a grave big enough to dump our victim into. Together, we hauled Zainab toward the open, shallow grave. Assef picked her up, for one final time, and tossed her in. She landed with a dull thump, a twisted finality. We covered her in dirt - kicking dust onto her corpse, leaving her to rot like the nothing she was.

I stepped back from the grave, wrapping my arms around my brother's waist. No more words were spoken, for there was nothing else that needed to be said. The gratitude that I felt towards him, for all of the effort he'd put into helping me. Assef had just become an accessory to murder for _me_. Was there no other proof of his devotion to me, and mine to him, than this?

My brother's love invigorated me, it always did. And now, standing on the marks of my gruesome handiwork, I felt another surge of energy, burning through my veins, jolting the fibres of my being like an electric shock. It was the thrill of death, the thrill of knowing just what I was capable of. It made me feel as though I could do anything, as though I could take on the world.

It made me feel, if you will, like a god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please comment, subscribe and follow if this story interests you and you would like to read further. I appreciate every single one of my readers - truly, it means a lot to me.
> 
> In the next chapter, we explore yet another scene from the original novel, as a tumultuous event in Afghanistan's history rocks Saria's world. And how will she react when a chance encounter with Amir causes more tension between her new obsession and her big brother?
> 
> Wishing you all a pleasant day. Look for the next chapter coming up soon. I try to get them down at least every two weeks to a month, so that this story may continue on in a timely fashion.


	9. As Gunshots Echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, Saria and Assef made their plans to kill Zainab. After an intense chase, they cornered her in an abandoned house, leading to a brutal stabbing delivered by Saria. Now, a few more days have passed and we find Saria suffering through an awkward dinner with her parents...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who reads this story. It means a lot to me. This chapter takes place during yet another event in the original novel. As always, I claim no ownership of any characters, plots and events found within the Kite Runner. I'm just having some fun with them. ;)
> 
> Please note, again, that I do not condone the actions, thoughts, or opinions of the characters in this story. This chapter contains mentions of Nazi ideology - as is part of Assef's character in the original novel. It also contains quotes and a direct scene from the original book content. I do not agree with his views (or that of Saria) but am including them as they are a part of the character's basis in the Kite Runner.
> 
> With that said, please enjoy this next instalment!

There are many, many things that I detest in this life. So much so that I could make a comprehensive list, a detailed memoir on those things alone. But among those pet peeves of mine, there is none that drives me to distraction more so than being seated at the dinner table with my parents. And that was where I now found myself, seated on Tanya's left, across the table from my brother, who shot me sympathetic glances every so often.

Just the sight of my parents turned my veins to ice, made my blood boil. Just the way that Tanya stared at me, every damn time I cut a piece of meat, or placed a bit of rice into my mouth, as if waiting for me to slip up and drop food onto my clothes like some fucking toddler. It was distracting, and were I not used to this type of behaviour, given how strict she was about proper behaviour at dinnertime, I would, no doubt, have messed up and gotten myself into trouble. But this was par for the course, and so I simply ignored her. Still, I couldn't help but find myself wishing that she and Mahmood had stayed in Pakistan.

There were other issues weighing on my mind too, other thoughts rushing to and fro. Chief among them, well, you can probably guess what that was. Yes, Zainab's murder. Though it had been a few days since I'd ended the girl's life, those events were still as fresh as the hour they'd happened. Sometimes, when I closed my eyes at night, I dreamt of the murder, seeing Zainab's terrified face appear right before my eyes, her face frozen in perpetual terror. The blood coating her shirt, the way she struggled, her desperation to live, though she was, of course, entirely unable to fight me off. This was not to say that I felt any sort of guilt for what I had done - far from it. Zainab had it coming, and deserved every stab wound that her body was forced to endure. I could only wish that I'd had the foresight to make her suffer _more_.

My thoughts of her were nothing more than the happy reminiscing of what had been one of the best days in my life. It was an adrenaline rush, one that I still had yet to come down from. Though I will admit, my thoughts of Zainab were not entirely joyous. There was no news regarding the murder, no words whispered in the streets about her disappearance - and that struck me as odd. Had her parents not noticed that she was missing? Were they not sickened with worry when she didn't come home? And what of her friends? Did they fear for their missing companion? Were they gossiping about her disappearance, making up conspiracy theories in the way that simple minded children often did?

Would there - and this was the more frightening thought - would there be an investigation into the murder? Would the police get involved? All of these thoughts were very real and unsettling to me, try as I might to push them out of my head. I absently moved my fork around on my plate in distraction, lifting a bit of rice and then allowing it to drop, one by one, back down.

"Saria." It was Tanya's voice that brought me back to reality. She caught hold of my wrist, her expertly manicured fingernails digging into my skin. I wanted to flinch, to shrink away from her, yet that would be seen as rude, and so all I could do was turn to face her, glancing downwards with a reticent look in my eyes. That was what the bitch wanted. From the look on her face, I surmised that I would be in for a lecture.

She took the fork out of my hand, placing it back down on my plate with an impacted clang. With her free hand, she extended her finger, jabbing me in the chest with it. "You do not play with your food, young lady," she admonished, "do you think I spend hours in the kitchen cooking this meal for my family so that you can just toss it about with absolutely no regard for the effort I have made?"

Her words brought me nothing but untold rage. I wanted to seize hold of that fork again, and shove it right into her damn throat. To carve off her lips so that she couldn't speak another disrespectful word to me. Who, just who the fuck, did she think she was? Did she honestly think she was so important that every meal she cooked had to be treated with the utmost dignity, as though it had come from the divine hand of God himself? I opened my mouth to reply, but right before I could do so, Mahmood cut in, wanting to give his two cents on the matter.

"You will respect the work that your mother puts into ensuring your health and well-being, my child," he scolded, fixing me with a pointed stare. "It is the height of utter arrogance to think that you can sit here and make light of the meal that we have been so fortunate to receive this evening. If you have finished eating, then you are acutely aware of the proper manner in which to go about expressing that, are you not?" He placed his hand on his hip. The belt looped through his trousers was out of sight, hidden by the table, but I just knew that was what he was aiming at. I didn't need his next words to confirm that, though he did so anyway. "Now, are you going to apologise to your mother for your actions or do you and I need to have a more intimate discussion?"

Most certainly not! I still remembered the sting of the last 'discussion' that Mahmood had with me, and I didn't need to go through that again. I bowed my head demurely, placing my hands submissively into my lap and keeping my eyes downcast as I spoke again, voice barely above a gentle whisper. "No, Papa. We need not discuss the matter further, if it please you." I turned to my mother, the picture of sweet contrition. "I apologise for my disrespect, Mama. It was in no way my intention."

Tanya nodded once. She placed her hands on my shoulders, her piercing, cruel blue eyes staring into mine. I kept my apologetic gaze locked onto hers. For what seemed like eons, we just looked at one another. I knew that it was down to Tanya to decide whether or not my transgressions should be forgiven. And that if she decided otherwise, Mahmood would impart his lesson upon my flesh regardless. From across the table, Assef kept his eyes focused on his plate, though I knew he wanted to speak out against this unfair lecture.

But, Tanya must have seen what she believed to be true remorse in my eyes, for she removed her hands from off of my shoulders, leaned back in her seat and looked at Mahmood. "She is contrite, Mahmood," she said, talking over me as though I wasn't even in the room. "There is no need to let the matter run on any further." He removed his hand off of his belt and took a sip of his drink. Tanya gesticulated to my plate. "Now, Saria, if you are finished with your meal, you will take your plate and cutlery to the sink as expected."

"Yes, Mama," I replied, getting to my feet. I took my plate and napkin, gathering them into my arms and carrying them to the sink. My teeth grit in frustration, I moved my tongue from one side to the other, scraping the side of it with my teeth. Being rebuked in this manner, talked down to as if I was little more than a fractious dog, it only made me loathe those two pieces of crap even more. Maybe I should have been used to this - so common a feature it was in the Ahmed household, but every time I received a scolding, it made me want to scream aloud in frustration.

My hands trembled to the point I feared I may drop the plate before I even got it to the sink. It was only my fear of what may happen that kept me from doing so. _Stay calm, Saria,_ I reminded myself, _you're used to this. You've gone through this before, it's nothing new to you. It was but a scolding, nothing more, nothing less. Push it to the back of your mind, you know you are not in the wrong here._

Emitting a low exhale through my teeth, I finally made it to the sink with, luckily for me, no issues to report. Now, there was a certain way that plates had to be left in the sink. While other families might have been content to let their children drop their cutlery into the sink and leave it at that, leave it for the servant(s) to clean, we were not like that. Everything had a ritualistic way about it.

First, I wiped the plate down with the napkin. Once I'd put that into the bin, I lay the plate face up in the sink, with the knife and fork side-by-side on top of it. That had to be done correctly, ensuring that it looked as neat as was humanly possible. Then, at last, I stepped back from the sink, turning back to my parents and bowing my head demurely - the symbol that I had completed my task. Now, if you're thinking that the manner in which the Ahmeds put dirty dishes away sounds much too similar to the manner in which waiters in restaurants put out food for their customers, then you'd be quite correct.

Tanya beckoned me to return to the table. I was about to do so, when the crackling of our living room's radio distracted me. We often left it on during dinnertime - letting music play on while we ate in silence. For what reason, I had no idea. Perhaps just to give off some semblance of normality to our otherwise ridiculously abnormal affairs. But now it crackled, a surefire warning that there was a breaking news story just waiting to be read.

A male voice came over the airwaves. "We interrupt your listening for an important announcement." And then it crackled again, because we weren't listening to the right channel. The man continued to speak, "for the full story, please turn your dials to Radio Kabul News, channel 78.5"

As Mahmood rose to his feet, I wondered if he was about to head into the living room to change the radio frequency so that it would be on the right channel for us to hear whatever news that Wazir-Akbhar-Khan had to offer today. But my hopes were dashed and yet again my indignation was set aflame as he clicked his fingers at me the way one might to a trained pet, and said, "You will change the channel on the radio, daughter."

Would it have killed him to say the word 'please'? Or to word his request in a more polite way? Fucking asshole, talking down to me like that. As if he hadn't done enough already at the dinner table. I opened my mouth to acknowledge his demand, but he shook his head and said, in a pompous tone, "A verbal response is unnecessary, Saria. Simply do as you are bid, now." Then, turning to my brother and mother, he added, "Come along, Tanya, Assef. Let us clear our own plates and make our way into the living room so that we may hear what is to be announced this evening."

I walked into the living room, across the carpet, and over to where our family radio rested upon the mantle, above the fireplace. My tiny hands picked it up, fiddling with the dial. As I did so, I could hear the rest of my family putting their plates into the sink - in the same manner in which I had done earlier. I fumbled about with the radio, twisting and turning it, hearing that irritating white noise. By the time I'd gotten it to the right channel, and adjusted the dial on the volume, everyone else had gathered in the living room, taking their places on the couch and surrounding armchairs.

Making my way over to Assef, I sat beside him on the couch. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, drawing me in close and absently pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Mahmood sat in one armchair, and Tanya in the other, both looking expectantly between me and the radio. For a moment, there was little more than awkward silence, and then the news-reporter began to speak. And oh, how I wasn't one bit ready for the news he would bring. Remember how I said there was no news on Zainab? Well, that was all about to change!

The reporter began to speak, his voice terse and formal. "Police in Wazir-Akbar-Khan are investigating the disappearance of twelve-year-old Zainab Niazai." _So that's her surname,_ I thought absently. "She was last spotted on Friday, in the market-place at around twelve noon. Zainab is four foot seven, with dark hair and eyes. On the day of her disappearance, she was wearing a light green, striped dress, with black shoes."

I remembered that outfit, quite clearly. The description of Zainab's outfit only served to bring to light those memories of seeing her blood-soaked corpse lying upon the floor. Her fear-filled eyes, the screams that emanated from her throat. Yet these thoughts didn't bring me as much joy as they previously did. I glanced over at Assef, trying to gauge his opinions.

He stared straight ahead, his eyes focused on the wall. His face was expressionless, hands by his sides. But I knew him better than anyone, and I knew that this news had shocked him just as much as it shocked me. We just couldn't let our feelings be known, not while Mahmood and Tanya were in the room with us. We needed to pretend that we were just as gullible as they were, that we, too, were hearing this news for the first time.

The radio announcer continued to speak. "Police have been working alongside the Niazai family in order to bring Zainab home safely, though as of yet, no new leads have been made." Thank God. Thank fucking God. I almost sighed in relief, but was quick to remind myself that doing so would only arouse suspicion. And from the way that Tanya kept glancing in my direction, I would have to be extra careful right now. The slightest wrong move could bring the Inquisition down upon me, and that was the last thing I needed.

As the news briefing continued, I did my best to listen intently while not trying to seem overtly interested. Luckily, the reporter made no mention of a body, or any mention that Zainab was believed to be dead at all, really. No doubt they simply figured she might have gotten lost and were hoping to locate her and bring her home safe and sound. _Perhaps_ , I thought, _perhaps they may entertain the notion of this being a kidnapping and be on the lookout for child predators in the local area._

Wouldn't that have been great? To have my crime paid for by someone else? I think I'd have figured myself the luckiest girl in the world if that were to be the case. The news reporter was beginning to finish speaking. "If anyone has information regarding Zainab's disappearance, please contact the local police department on the following number." He gave out the number for the Wazir-Akbar-Khan police, but I drowned that part of the announcement out. I mean, I wasn't going to be the one calling them, now was I?

Finally, the news briefing was at an end. Mahmood rose from his seat and turned the radio off. It seemed strange for us to listen to music now. Not that we would have, anyway. Tanya covered her mouth with one hand, shaking her head. "Oh my God," she whispered, staring at the radio, as if unable to believe what she'd just heard. "I... I can't believe this. That poor girl." She bit down on her fist, looking extremely tense. She turned to my father, who looked perturbed by the news but not nearly as bothered as her. "Oh, Mahmood, that family must be utterly heartbroken. Worried out of their minds."

Mahmood nodded, giving Tanya a sympathetic gaze. "They must be," he said. "I never thought anything like that could happen in this city. It's always been so safe."

 _Wow_ , I thought, _they're really bothered by this whole Zainab thing. The news here really threw them for a loop - and they don't even know that she's dead yet. Imagine how they'd react if they knew the truth - no doubt their fucking heads would explode._ I almost laughed at that mental image, though I managed to contain myself. Again, I gave a cursory look at my brother, who just kept looking ahead. He hadn't said a word yet, and I wondered if he was ever going to. But then, I couldn't blame him for remaining silent. What could he say? What words were appropriate for a situation such as this?

But just when I thought that our parents were going to ignore us completely, Tanya lifted her head and looked right in my direction. Obviously now coming to the realisation that her children were in the room with her and could see her whining about a missing girl she didn't even know. She rose from her chair and walked over to me. She knelt down in front of me, reaching up and grabbing hold of my arms, so that I couldn't move or look away without risk of another scolding.

"Saria," she said. Her voice was somewhat gentler now, dripping from her lips like a sickening honey. "Saria, listen to me now. That young girl, Zainab, did you know her? Was she in your class at school? Was she... was she a friend of yours?" Her concern bothered me. What was she asking me this for? What did it matter whether or not I was in the same class as Zainab? What did it matter if we were friends? All her asking me those questions did was serve to further empathise how little Tanya knew about me. How little I _wanted_ her to know about me.

I had to answer her though. If I were to sit there and not speak a word, then I would be in trouble, and I could do without that. "Yes, Mama," I replied softly. "I... She's in school with me. I saw her once or twice in classes but we never really talked. I mean, we weren't, uh... we weren't really friends or anything like that." There. What more could I say? I couldn't just come right out and inform her that Zainab had bullied me, now could I? For one thing, that would cause suspicion to fall upon me and for another, less important point, well... Tanya wouldn't have cared anyway. She would have just said that I no doubt did something to upset the girl or that I should 'behave in a manner that makes people wish to befriend you', as if I didn't spend every waking hour feigning perfection anyway.

Keeping my eyes downcast, I maintained the appearance of a demure, nervous little girl. Perhaps if Tanya thought that the news of Zainab was making me feel a bit uncomfortable - then she would leave me alone. Perhaps. Maybe, well, not out of any sympathy for her only daughter, but because she wouldn't want me getting upset and 'causing a scene' in front of the other members of the household.

Tanya lifted my chin, staring directly into my eyes. Her gaze was serious, piercing. "It must have been hard for you to hear such news about your classmate," she said. "But you must be assured, the police will do all that is necessary to find her." This was, of course, in no way reassuring to me. I mean, much as I figured it might be funny to imagine the looks on the Niazai family's faces when they were informed of their child's gruesome death, I also knew that the discovery of her corpse would open up an even bigger investigation than this one. So, of course I felt a little paranoid about that. Who wouldn't, after committing their first murder?

On some level, I had to wonder why Tanya was acting so concerned about Zainab. Why was she talking to me about this, why even ask if I knew her in the first place? Was this but another ploy to make herself out to be the caring mother? She did that sometimes - manipulative cunt that she was, and most especially after dishing out a scolding. I believe that's called dangling the carrot before the horse. Her attempt to make me believe she cared. Whatever. As if I needed her grabbing and manhandling me like this.

After what felt like an eternity, Tanya relinquished her grip on my arms and stood up. She walked back to her own chair and sat down. Mahmood rose from his own seat, walked to his wife and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, placing her hand upon his own. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear, something that I could neither hear nor decipher. Pulling away, he spoke aloud so that my brother and I could hear him.

"Well, there's not much point in any of us dwelling on it, is there? All we can do is just hope and pray that the girl will be found and returned safely to her family, and that will be an end to it." The tone in his voice told me that he wanted this conversation to be at an end just as much as I did. The one thing my father and I could agree on, then. He squeezed Tanya's hand one final time and got up, walking back to his own chair.

I looked at my mother again. Her hands were folded demurely in her lap, her chin tilted upwards, gaze focused. She was trying to come across as much in-control as she possibly could, but I knew that Zainab's disappearance had rattled her, though I was not entirely certain as to why. What purpose did it serve to be upset over someone you didn't even know? And would she be half as upset if it were either myself or Assef that went missing?

Given her general treatment of my brother and I - and the way she behaved earlier at dinner - would she care if one of us were to disappear? Would she cry? Would she fight tooth and nail to get us back, as the Niazai family were clearly doing for their own child? Or would she relish in the fact that she no longer had to deal with us anymore? Would she put on the mask of a grieving mother but secretly, inside, not care one single jot?

 _You already know the answer to that, Saria,_ a little voice in my head piped up. _Is that even a question you need to ask?_ It wasn't, of course, and I knew that. I could no longer stand to spend even one more minute in the company of my parents, I slowly rose to my feet. Brushing off the front of my dress, I turned, facing them with my head tilted demurely. "I think I would like to prepare for bed now, Mama, Papa," I said.

Mahmood nodded. "Of course, Saria. It's about time you started getting ready anyway. You'll be sure to take your bath and brush your teeth before turning in for the night, won't you?" Oh, how his patronising words made me want to slap him across the face. His tone was that of a person speaking to a much younger child. Did he think of me as some idiot who didn't know how to take care of herself? I itched to take that fucking toothbrush of mine and shove it down his throat, but alas, we can't always have what we want in life, can we?

"Yes, Papa," I replied politely. I walked to where Assef still sat upon the couch, and leaned down to embrace him. He was, of course, the only person in that room that would get a good night hug or kiss from me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Good night, big brother. I love you."

Assef smiled as I pulled away from him, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "I love you too, Saria. Sleep well, _Liebchen_." We both looked at each other, and in that split second, it was as though the entire world fell away - nobody else in that room mattered save my brother and I. I would have stayed locked in his embrace for centuries, but alas, I needed to get myself upstairs. With a final wave to my Assef and a polite nod to Mahmood and Tanya, I turned on my heel and began making my way upstairs.

I reached the landing, grabbing a towel from the hot press - I had already washed my hair yesterday and therefore a second towel was unnecessary - and walking into the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I turned on the taps and let the bathwater run as I began the process of undressing. Slipping out of my dress and tights, I folded them up and laid them neatly on a shelf. Once that was done, I tied my hair back (to prevent it from getting wet) and hopped into the bath.

The water was incredibly relaxing, so much so that I closed my eyes and let past worries fade away, with not a care in the world. For now, at least, I decided not to think about Zainab anymore. There was no point in worrying about things that were not in my control, was there? Besides, Assef and I had done everything in our power to ensure that nothing in that crime would be linked back to us. Still, that didn't mean it wasn't unsettling to know my own mother was so bothered about a girl that I had ki-no, no, I wouldn't think of that. Neither Tanya nor Zainab deserved my precious time or energy.

After finishing my bath, I made my way into my room, closing the door behind me so that I could be afforded that precious little privacy I had. I changed into a white nightgown with rosebuds adorning the sleeves. Yet another item of clothing that I'd had since I was about eight, and that still fit me like a glove. Utterly pathetic, really. But there wasn't much point in complaining - this was a 'ladylike' nightgown, and that was what mattered.

I grabbed my copy of the _Shahnameh_ and got into bed, pulling the covers up over me. I always read for about half-an-hour or so before I went to sleep. Helped to clear my mind of my own personal worries and meant I could get lost in some other world, if only for a time. My thumbs flicked through the pages, concentrating on the words inscribed upon them. As I did so, I could hear the familiar sounds of my brother and parents walking around downstairs. Then, as more time passed, they came up the stairs, and I heard them go into their respective rooms.

Finally, when my eyes were beginning to get heavy, and I was barely able to comprehend the words on the page, I decided that it was time for me to get some sleep. I'm not sure how much time had passed, but I figured it must have been fairly late. I closed the _Shahnameh_ and got out of bed, making my way over to the shelf so that I could place it back up there.

Reaching up on tiptoe, I was just about to put the book down... and then it happened. A loud bang echoed from outside, causing me to stagger backwards, throwing my arm out as I gasped. The _Shahmaneh_ fell to the ground, and several other books on that shelf came crashing down to the floor around me. "Oh fuck!" I swore under my breath, dropping to my knees and scrambling around like a blind-woman to pick them up. Mentally, I prayed that neither of my parents would have heard the commotion. If they had, then they most certainly would come barging in here, ready with a scolding (and perhaps a lick of the belt) for me making a mess - and being awake at this hour.

 _Please don't let them come in here,_ I prayed, gathering the books up and halfheartedly replacing them back on the shelf. _Please, God, please don't let them have heard that. I don't need another lecture, I don't need to get into trouble. Not tonight, not again. Please._ I stood there, arms trembling by my sides, waiting for the inevitable hammering of my father's fists upon the bedroom door. One second, two second, three seconds...

Nothing. No footsteps. No knocking on the door. Had they not heard, then? Was I in the clear? They must not have heard anything - perhaps they were already asleep, or just didn't want to be bothered with their daughter. I made to get into bed once more. And then... there came yet another loud and sudden bang. I pressed my hands over my ears, another curse word spewing from my lips. What the hell was that? What the actual fuck was going on?

Another noise. Then another. Then... yet another. This was starting to get a bit irritating, to tell you the truth. I needed to sleep, and how in the world was I meant to do that when people outside were so rudely doing... whatever this was. How was I supposed to get a single moment of rest? And just what were those noises anyway? Fireworks? That seemed a logical explanation - though I couldn't for the life of me figure out what people would be celebrating. It wasn't a national holiday or anything.

 _Maybe they're rejoicing over Zainab's disappearance? Everyone must have heard that news report by now - and I can't blame them if they wanted to set off a few fireworks for that._ I found myself smirking at my own mental quip. Indeed, if people had been setting off fireworks in honour of Zainab vanishing, then I may well have gone out there to dance in the streets alongside them. If her disappearance (and death) were to be seen as a good, noble deed, then would I not have been justified in taking the glory was my due? In allowing the world to praise me as they rightfully should?

But alas, that is not the world we live in. If people were celebrating something, then it most certainly was not Zainab's disappearance. Yet the noises continued, over and over. Now, the time between each one was much smaller; it went from a thirty second interval to only seven or thereabouts. They were loud - yet still sounded far away. My curiosity was getting the better of me; if these noises were going to keep me up tonight, then I had the right to know what they were.

Making my way over to the window, I slowly drew back the curtain and peeked outside. By now, it was probably fairly late, and thus the driveway and front garden of my house was shrouded in darkness. I rubbed my eyes, squinting into the pitch-black night. Another noise - this one somewhat closer. And yet, I could see nothing. Not fireworks then, certainly their lights would have been noticeable. But they weren't and I could now discern that my original thoughts had been mistaken.

What else could it be, then? I furrowed a brow, trying to consider what might be causing those sounds. If not fireworks then... the only other logical explanation would be gunshots. That was a sobering thought, one that made a cold shudder run through me. I wasn't used to hearing gunfire - most people weren't, not in the Kabul of my childhood - and therefore, the idea that people were out there shooting wildly into the night, was more than little unsettling. Were they hunting something? Or... or _someone_?

There was no way I'd be able to sleep tonight. Loathe as I may be to admit it, this was starting to unsettle me. And thus, I would do what I always did when I couldn't sleep - go to my brother. Assef wouldn't mind sharing his bed with me, it was something we'd been doing since I was a toddler. On nights when I would wake, frightened and drenched in sweat from a bad dream, I would go to my darling brother's room, and find safety in the comfort of his embrace.

This, I knew, would be another one of those nights. Assef was the only person here that I could seek solace with, and it was with this thought in mind that I slowly made my way out of my room and down the corridor to his. I tiptoed silently, not daring to make even the slightest noise, lest Mahmood or Tanya awaken and usher me to bed once more. Assef's room was fourteen steps away from mine - and I counted each in my head as I walked. Don't ask me why, maybe it just made me feel safer to know how close we were.

Once I reached his door, I knocked once, and stepped back. For a moment, there was nothing, and I wondered if he'd not heard me. It wasn't like I could be too loud - and perhaps he was asleep already. But then... what could I do then? Go back to my own room? No, that was not an option. There was too much on my mind, and I needed my big brother. Yet... if he didn't come out... Should I knock again?

Right as I was about to do so, the door opened, and Assef stood in the doorway, shrouded by the fading light of the hallway. He looked down at me, his brow raised. "Saria?" he whispered. I nodded, and he moved to my side, a concerned look in his eye. "Is everything alright, _Liebchen_?" Just as I was about to answer him, there came yet another gunshot. Caught off-guard, I jumped, placing a hand over my chest as I began to shiver in trepidation. Assef figured out what was going on, because he gently took my hand and said, "It's alright, sis. Come on in. You can stay with me tonight."

That was yet another check-mark on the endless list of things that I loved about my beloved Assef. He always gave me what I needed, always knew just what to do to make me feel better. Assef guided me into his room, quietly closing the door behind him. He walked to his bed - double and big enough to hold both of us - and gestured for me to come to him.

Well, I didn't need to be told twice. I rushed to my brother, almost tripping over myself in haste. He pulled back the bed-covers and I slid in beside him, while he lay beside me, one arm wrapped around my waist, holding me close. We faced each other, faces almost touching, lit only by the small lamp on Assef's bedside table. The gunfire crackled on, not stopping, not even once.

"Those..." I inclined my head towards the window - trying to prevent the tremor from entering my voice, although that seemed a losing battle at this point. "Those noises, they're guns, aren't they?" It wasn't a question that I particularly needed answers to, having already been driven to that same conclusion minutes before. But, on some small level, talking my worries out with Assef would, I knew, make me feel better

"Yes," Assef whispered, nodding. That was one of the things I loved about my brother. He was honest with me - he didn't try to placate me with falsehoods. He didn't brush off my concerns, or make up some childish story. He comforted me, yes, but he respected me as a person. And that was what I needed; now more so than ever. The truth, but a gentle touch to soothe me, someone to be there to face it alongside me.

I hummed softly, "Mhm-hm. That's what I thought. Well, actually, my first guess was fireworks. That theory evaporated when I looked out the window and didn't see any lights or anything."

Assef's mouth twitched. "Fireworks?" he asked. I made a soft, non-committal sound, and he chuckled. "Well, it was a good guess, _Liebchen_. But tell me, then, what did you think they were celebrating?"

"Well, I don't know," I replied, cuddling closer to him. "Part of me thought... I know it'd never happen but wouldn't it be amazing if they were celebrating Zainab going missing? If people hated her with as much passion as I. Not that I would blame them for a second, no doubt I wasn't her only enemy with the way she behaved."

Just as my brother opened his mouth to say something else, there came the loudest pop of gunfire yet. And then another, and another, and another; in rapid succession. These were the closest I'd ever heard them. It sounded as though they were right outside Assef's bedroom window, as though a stray bullet might come flying through the glass and hit one of us at any moment. Against my better judgement, I let out a tiny shriek of fear and began whimpering. Tears welled up in my eyes, pooling over and falling down my cheeks.

 _What is this?_ I thought in a panic, _who are these people? Why are they shooting like this? Are they just hunters out for sport or... or this something darker? Should I be worried for my safety? Or... or Assef's?_ Once again, my mind ran away from me and I was assaulted by the mental image of large, masked gunmen breaking into our home and shooting my brother, my world, my most important person, dead right in front of me. That thought alone frightened more than anything and I couldn't stop myself from sobbing harder. "N-No... Nooo..." I whimpered, hiding my face.

"Saria..." Assef pulled me closer to him. We were now practically entangled in each other's arms, so close that I could feel his breath. He rocked me, humming under his breath. "It's alright, _Liebchen_. It's okay." I continued to whimper, clutching the front of his pyjama shirt, my hands digging into the fabric. Assef pressed a kiss the top of my head. "You're safe, I promise. Everything's going to be fine. Shh... It's alright, my darling."

I trembled all over, tears rolling down my face. _Fucking pathetic, Saria,_ I chastised myself, _look at yourself._ _Crying like a toddler over some fucking noise? What the hell is wrong with you? Stupid girl! Grow the fuck up!_ It was with a bitter irony that I noted how the voice that demeaned my fears sounded oh-so-much like Tanya. If she could see me, I knew that she would be treating me with much the same disdain that I was now treating myself.

But fortunately for me, I had my brother. And he would do whatever was necessary to soothe my demons - both from the gunshots outside and the frazzled mess of my broken psyche. He cradled me the way a parent would an infant, his arms a protective shield around me. His lips gently brushed my ear as he whispered soft words of encouragement. "They won't hurt you, sweet one. I promise. I know the noises are upsetting, but please, try not to think of it. Just close your eyes now, try to block it all out. I'm right here, my beloved Saria, and I'm not going anywhere. Nobody will hurt you. I swear on my life."

Eventually, the sounds of the gunshots began to die down. They were still clearly audible, yes, but no longer did they sound as if they were right outside my house. I began to feel a little more comfortable - though I still didn't disentangle myself from Assef's tender embrace. He continued to whisper soft, comforting words into my ear, holding me tightly, sheltering me from whatever fears may assuage me from slumber. And as the hours dwindled away, I soon found myself drifting off...

I awoke the next morning to an empty bed and, after giving a cursory glance, I discovered Assef's room empty aside from me. Normally, this would be cause for concern - and more so given the circumstances of last night, but any fears I might have had were immediately washed away by the sight of my brother reappearing in the doorway, fully dressed. He gave me a small smile as I rubbed my eyes, sitting up. "You're up early," I whispered, unable to hide the tiredness in my voice.

Assef crossed to his bed, sitting beside me and drawing me in close. "It's half-ten, Sar," he said, "not that early, not really." I was about to protest at having slept in so late - and apologise for bothering him, because that little voice of self-judgement in my head was telling me I had. Oh, how I loathed that voice. But Assef, sensing what I was about to say, cut across me before I got the chance. "It's alright, _Liebchen_ , you needed your rest." I looked at him through tired eyes, and he placed the back of his hand against my cheek. "Everything alright, now?"

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against his shoulder, and nodded once. "Yeah," I whispered softly. I was, too. Though last night had been an unsettling experience - and in the back of my mind I still felt that strange apprehension about what had transpired - I did feel comforted by Assef's presence. "I don't think I'd have been able to sleep half as well as I did without you by my side last night."

"You're welcome to stay here any night, you know that," Assef responded in a gentle tone, taking my hand in his, and lifting it to his lips. We looked at each other for the briefest of moments, before he moved away from me, rising to his feet and making his way to the window. For the longest time, he just stood there and didn't say a word. Then, a few moments later, he turned back to me. "Now, Sar, I don't mean to kick you out, little sister, but I'm meeting Wali and Kamal today and I do need to get dressed."

I nodded, rising and making my way to the door. Right before I exited, I turned back to Assef. "Can I come with you?" I asked. "To meet Wali and Kamal, today, I mean?"

"Of course, Saria," Assef responded, "I was going to ask you to come along anyway." We smiled at each other, and I felt yet another surge of the deepest adoration for my brother. Most people would not want their little sisters hanging around they were with friends, but Assef and I had a relationship that transcended the realms of the normal sibling bond. The thought brought a spring to my step as I walked my down the hall and into my room.

Closing the door behind me, I gathered the outfit for the day. A light blue dress, knee-length, with white ankle socks and ballet flats with ribbons on the top. Topping off the look was a small white cardigan. It was, as many of my clothing was, made for a child far younger than I, but it still fit me like a glove - and that was what mattered. I hummed softly as I got dressed.

When I was done, and my hair had been brushed and pinned back by a small black headband, I made my way downstairs and into the kitchen. Mahmood and Tanya sat at the table, neither speaking a word to one another. Par for the course, that was. Tanya held a cup of piping hot tea in her hands, the steam wafting from over the top of it. Her eyes were slightly downcast. Beside her, Mahmood was reading the newspaper. When they heard me entering the room, both stopped what they were doing and turned to look at me.

Their stern glare was like a weight upon my back. I bowed my head, hands placed over the other, folded in front of me. Tanya set her cup of tea aside, beckoning me to her. "Come here, Saria." Like an obedient puppet, I walked to her side, close enough for her to reach out and grab me, turning me this way and that as she inspected my outfit. She did this... well, not often, for she was not home enough to do daily inspections, but enough that I knew how to behave, and the type of outfit that I ought to wear in order to gain her approval.

She turned me, left, then right, then brushed some imaginary dust off of my cardigan. "You look beautiful, sweetheart." The words, though she meant them to sound like a compliment, were nothing but a way for her to charm me. Tanya gave out compliments with the utmost falsehood - a kind word could be snatched away and replaced with cruelty in the blink of an eye. How fortunate I was, in that moment, to be on the receiving end of the former.

I bowed my knees, speaking in the most respectful tone that I could muster. "Thank you, Mama."

Tanya gave me a final glance-over, before returning her attention to her tea. Mahmood opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Assef appeared in the kitchen doorway. The minute I saw him, I let out the apprehensive breath I'd been holding in. Assef strolled over to the cupboards, pulling out some bread. He gave Mahmood and Tanya not even a second glance, and neither of them said a word to him. "Want me to put some toast on for you, Saria?" he asked.

"Please, brother," I replied politely. Assef put on two slices of toast, and sat down at the table while we waited for it to pop. I climbed onto his lap, and he pressed a kiss atop my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Tanya and Mahmood give us a side-ways glance, though, again, neither questioned us. For the longest time, silence reigned.

Then... Mahmood set the newspaper down and looked at my brother and I. "You two heard the noises last night?"

"The gunshots?" Assef asked, raising a brow at our father's attempt to sugarcoat the discussion. A sugarcoating that he was doing, I'm sure, for my benefit. At Mahmood's nod, my brother continued speaking. "Yeah, we heard those. Not sure how we couldn't, given how loud they were." He gestured to the newspaper in our father's hand, trying to see the front page headlines. "That give any explanation or reason to what went on?"

Mahmood shook his head. "Not on today's paper, no, but it was on the morning news, on Radio Kabul." He looked back and forth, from Assef and I, to Tanya, then back again. "There's been a coup," he said. "You two remember the King's cousin, Daoud Khan?" The name was familiar to me, on some level, but I didn't quite know who he was talking to. I blinked, shaking my head. Mahmood clicked his tongue, though it was hard to tell if he was bothered by my not knowing or just in thought.

But Assef knew. He arched a brow at our father's words. "Daoud Khan... he dined with us last year, didn't he?" He was about to say something else, when our toast popped. Setting me back on my feet, Assef rose and went to get our breakfast. He buttered his own slice of toast, then brought mine (and the butter and knife) over to the table. I disliked buttering my toast when it was too warm, not wanting it to melt. Assef pulled me back onto his lap, then addressed Mahmood again. "So... he's killed the king?"

"No, actually. The king is away in Italy. It was an entirely bloodless coup, or so that's what they're saying on the radio. But the monarchy is over now."

This discussion meant little to me, young as I was, at the time. I'd never really paid much attention to the monarchy - sure, I learned the names of our kings and queens in school - and filed them away in case they popped up in test and such, but the ins-and-outs of politics weren't that interesting to me. Though now, I must admit, that as I buttered my toast and nibbled absently at the sides of it, I was a tad curious as to what this whole thing meant. And, more importantly, if it would have any implications for my brother and I.

Assef didn't seem to be all that concerned, though, and when he was finished eating, he turned to look at me. "Well," he said, "we should probably get going now. Saria and I are going out to meet Wali and Kamal today. We'll be back by dinner." At this, he motioned for me to rise from his lap, which I did. "Go and get your coat, sister. I'll meet you at the front gate, alright?"

"Yes, brother," I responded. I gave a polite curtsy to Mahmood and Tanya - the only form of goodbye that they would receive from me - and brought my plate to the sink. After placing it in there for Hamilra to clean up later, I turned and skipped out of the room, humming childishly as I did so. I made my way upstairs, grabbing my long, black overcoat and matching gloves.

Once I was ready, I made my way out to the front gate, where Assef stood waiting for me, as he'd said he would. He offered me a gentle smile, and held out his hand for me to take. I didn't need to be asked twice. Placing my hand in his, I beamed, and we began our walk down the street. As we walked, I turned to look at my brother curiously. "So where are we meeting Kamal and Wali at?"

"Market," Assef responded. "Wali said they'd be near to where Saifo sells his kites." I nodded, and he began to lead me down the road. As we strolled, noting with great jubilation the apprehensive looks we (namely Assef) received from other children as they scampered on by, Assef brought up a topic that I hadn't given much thought to for now. "So, Liebchen, your birthday is coming up next week..."

He was right. December 05th, next Thursday, would be my twelfth birthday. Truth be told, I hadn't given it much thought - not right now, anyway. I knew that as time drew nearer, plans would surely be made to celebrate. I almost shuddered to think of the childish gifts Mahmood and Tanya would give me. But there was no point in fretting about that now. I answered my brother. "Yeah?"

We turned a corner. "Well..." Assef began, "I was thinking... I mean... I already have a present for you - and don't you go asking what that is," he added as my eyes lit up and I grinned mischievously, "but on the subject of Saifo's kites... I brought some cash with me today so I wanted to know if you'd like me to buy you one. Think of it as a second birthday present and well, a potential replacement for the one Farsef destroyed?"

Truly, my brother had the kindest heart of anyone that I had ever known. Was there no greater limits to his love for me? Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I took in the genuine sweetness of his words and gesture. All the same, though, I wasn't that interested in another kite. Still, I did make my gratitude known. With a soft look on my countenance, I squeezed his hand in mine. "That's generous of you, Assef jan. Thank you. But I'll pass on the kite. I do truly appreciate the offer though. I can't wait to see what you _did_ get me for my birthday..." At this, I trailed off, leaving a playful silence hanging in the air as if I hoped that he would catch on and let something slip.

Assef laughed, ruffling my hair. "Nice try, _Liebchen_ , but you know me well enough to know that I'm not going to just tell you. It's only one more week, you can be patient until then, can't you? You'll like it, that's all the information you're going to get."

I was about to say something else, but by now we had arrived at Saifo's and Wali and Kamal were there, awaiting our arrival. We made our way over to them, exchanging the basic pleasantries in greeting. Wali gave me a slightly uncomfortable glance, clearly not all too pleased at having his friend's "baby sister" there with them. Ah, well. Not as if he could do anything about it, was there? Not without standing against Assef, and that certainly wasn't something he'd be willing to do.

We walked through the market place, casually chatting about whichever relevant topic came to mind. I had since let go of Assef's hand, and was now skipping in front of them, the perfect image of childlike innocence. At one point, I turned, and caught sight of Kamal glancing at me with a fond smile. I gave him one of my own in return; he being my favourite of Assef's friends.

The conversation soon turned to the events of last night. It was Wali who brought it up first, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. "Did you hear the news?" he asked, "uh... about the new president, uh... I mean..."

"We heard," Assef responded, not even looking at Wali. "It was all over the morning radio, apparently."

Wali shrugged. "Yeah. I... I... things are going to change around here, that's what my father was saying. Really change. I don't think he was too pleased about... about the whole situation."

Assef scoffed. "I don't think your father really knows much of anything, Wali, so I'm not all that concerned with what he thinks. Now, personally, I'm in full support of the new president. I think-" But it was at this moment, that Assef caught sight of something in the distance and his sentence trailed off. I looked at him, confused, waiting for him to continue speaking. Kamal and Wali did the same. Assef just stood there, as though deep in concentration.

He raised a hand, motioning for me to come back to him. I did so, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "You'll never guess who I've just seen up ahead, sister," he said in German. I shrugged and he pointed to a barren patch of land near the hill (close to the barracks) with a cunning smirk making its way upon his features. "Up there, see? It's your little friend Amir and his Hazara pet."

Oh. _Oh._ Let me tell you, I don't know who I was expecting him to have seen, but it certainly wasn't those two. I'll admit, I hadn't thought about the boy in some time - most especially given the horrific fight Assef and I had gotten into the last time that we discussed him. But that wasn't to say that I was some robot, that I didn't still have feelings. That I could stop myself from grinning in excitement at the mere idea of being near Amir jan again. What can I say, in my eyes, there remained potential for me and the boy.

"Let's go over and see what the fairies are up to, shall we?" Assef asked, switching back to Farsi so that Wali and Kamal knew what he was saying. We followed behind Amir and Hassan for a little bit - not close enough to hear their conversation, but just so that we had a good view of them. Both with their arms around each other; utterly disgusting, really, and a major flaw of Amir's that I made the mental checkpoint to work on fixing.

Once we were in a secluded area where nobody else would see us, Assef bent down and picked up a rock. He tossed it up and down in his hand, once, twice, three times. The fourth time, he lobbed it directly at Hassan. It hit the smaller boy in the back, and he froze, hissing in pain. Both he and Amir whirled around, now face to face with us.

Amir froze like a deer in the headlights. He stared at Assef with a look of complete horror on his face - lower lip quivering, his eyes wide. It was oddly adorable, seeing how nervous he was around my brother. Hassan took a step behind Amir, cowering in terror. Pathetic, worthless Hazara. Even Amir was being somewhat more courageous than him - though that may have had more to do with the fact that he didn't have anywhere else to go.

"Good morning, _kunis_!" Assef exclaimed, with a mocking wave. He emphasised the cruel slur, with a pointed look at how close the two were. Amir gulped, and Hassan bit his lip nervously. Noticing this, Assef tipped his head to the Hazara boy. "Hey, Flat-Nose, how is _Babalu_?" That derogatory nickname - bogeyman - was in reference to Hassan's father - a hideously disfigured creature with polio and a limp to match.

Hassan didn't respond. He continued to tremble behind Amir, as if hoping that his master would step in and defend him. From the look on Amir's face and the way he was looking between Assef, Wali, Kamal and I in the hopes of finding an escape, that appeared to be a lost cause. Clearly not wanting to let the silence linger any more than it was, Assef spoke again. "Have you heard the news, boys? The king is gone. Good riddance, I say. Long live the president!" He glanced at me, by his side. "Our father knows Daoud Khan, did you know that, Amir?"

"So does my father," said Amir. With the amount he was stuttering and hesitating, it took him twice as long to get that one sentence out as it would anyone else. He retreated, another step back, almost trodding on Hassan as he did so. For half a second, I found myself wondering if Amir's father really did know Daoud Khan - I wouldn't have been all that surprised if he did; Jansher Quadiri practically knew everyone. But before I could inquire more about this, Assef spoke again.

He mimicked what Amir had said in a whining, childish voice. I laughed, noting with a slight twinge in my gut how Amir's shoulders slumped with dejection. Well, he would just have to get used to my brother and I making fun of him. Care for him I might have done; that didn't mean that I was going to ignore his flaws, that I wouldn't criticise him or let my Assef do the same.

Assef placed a hand on my shoulder, continuing to lecture Amir. "Well, Daoud Khan dined at our house last year, you know... And do you know what I'm going to tell him the next time he comes to visit?" When Amir didn't respond, my brother sighed but answered him anyway. "I'm going to have a little chat with him, man to man, _mard_ to _mard_. Tell him what I told my mother. About Hitler. Now, there was a leader. A great leader. A man with a vision. I'll tell Daoud Khan to remember that if they had let Hitler finish what he started, this world would be a better place."

Though I wasn't looking at my brother, my focus solely on Amir and his reactions, I could tell that Assef was smiling as he said those words. Eager to share his views, of what a better world could be like. Assef had always been a fervent admirer of Hitler - and had been since he was young and had read a copy of _Mein Kampf._ I didn't quite understand the whole thing, personally, but my brother told me that this was the right way to make the world a better place. To create the perfection we were so desperately seeking. And now he was educating Amir on the subject. I only hoped that the boy would be intelligent enough to understand the gift being offered to him in this moment.

"Baba says Hitler was crazy, that he ordered a lot of innocent people killed." Ah. So he _couldn't_ understand. I watched Amir's eyes widen and his hands rise to clamp over his mouth, as if hoping that he could push the words down, to prevent them from being said. Too late now. My eyes narrowed. How dare he question my brother? How dare he speak up against him?

Assef turned to me. He looked down at me and rolled his eyes. "Dumbass," he commented in German, gesturing towards Amir. I smirked - that was a logical conclusion right there. Turning, he addressed Amir once more, glaring at him. "He sounds like our mother, and she's German, she should know better." At this, I remembered Tanya's reaction when Assef had, one night, some time ago, brought up the topic of Hitler at the dinner table. It had _not_ been pretty. "But then, they want you to believe that, don't they? They don't want you to know the truth."

Terrified beyond wits, no doubt, Amir stared at the ground, not willing to meet my brother's eyes. Assef, to his credit, didn't let this act of rudeness sway him in any way. "But you have to read books they don't give out in school. I have. And my eyes have been opened. Now, I have a vision, and I'm going to share it with our new president. Do you know what it is?"

"Uh..." Amir began, trailing off. He shook his head, the tiniest, minuscule movement, barely even noticeable. But that was of no matter to my Assef, who was now focused, not on Amir, but on Hassan.

He regarded the Hazara boy through narrowed eyes, glaring at him as though the creature was less than the dirt under his shoe, which, obviously, he was. "Afghanistan is the land of the Pashtuns. It always has been, always will be. We are the true Afghans, the pure Afghans, not this Flat-Nose here." His lip curled and he pointed to Hassan, who took yet another step back, the faintest hint of a whimper escaping his lips. Assef scoffed. "His people pollute our homeland, our _watan_. They dirty our blood."

He drew me in close with one arm, and made a sweeping, grand gesture with the other. "Afghanistan for Pashtuns, I say. That's my -" He paused, looking down at me. "That's _our_ vision. Right, Saria?"

I nodded, smiling. "Our vision," I repeated, casting a softer glance to Amir. "Afghanistan for Pashtuns, Amir jan. A cleaner homeland. A better world." With that statement, I was gifting Amir with the knowledge of my deepest wish, my most fervent desire. Letting him know of the world that my dearest Assef and I hoped to create one day. A world that I, in all truth, hoped that Amir would find the good sense to be a part of.

Assef reached into the pocket of his jeans where his brass knuckles were. "I'll ask the president to do what the king didn't have the _quwat_ to. To rid Afghanistan of all the dirty, Kaseef Hazaras." As he said this, I grinned at Amir, praying, hoping, that something in him would click with this and he would agree with what my brother was saying. I continued to scrutinise him, hoping to find any indication on his face that he agreed with Assef's words. That he would be convinced to go to our side.

But alas, this was not to be the case. Amir's mouth parted, his tongue darting out along his lower lip. He gulped, hands curling and uncurling into fists. "Just..." he faltered. As if that one word took all of his courage to get out. "Just let us go, Assef. We're not bothering you."

"Oh, you're bothering me," Assef said. He slipped the brass knuckles onto his hand, moving away from me as he did so. "You bother me very much. In fact, you bother me more than this Hazara here. How can you talk to him, play with him, let him touch you?" As he said those words, he looked as if the mere notion of touching a Hazara - much less by choice - was abhorrent to him. He curled his hand into a fist, brass knuckles sparkling in the morning sun. Wali and Kamal smirked as Assef continued on. "How can you call him your _friend_?"

The moment that Assef referred to Hassan as Amir's 'friend', something changed in the boy's face. He glanced back at Hassan, who was staring at the ground, not moving, not saying a word. Amir didn't say anything but... could I dare to hope that the look he gave to Hassan was one of repugnance? It was hard to tell, but oh, how I wished so desperately for it. Yet when Amir's gaze flicked back to Assef, any other emotion was gone, and replaced with the same unadulterated terror he'd been wearing all this time.

Assef stepped forward. "You're part of the problem, Amir. If idiots like you and your father didn't take these people in, we'd be rid of them by now. They'd all go to rot in Hazarajat where they belong. You're a _disgrace_ to Afghanistan." He raised his fist, and it was in that moment, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, what he was going to do. And for the first time in my life, as I stood, about to bear witness to Assef's cruelty, I found myself at a bit of a crossroads.

This was a boy that I... cared for. A boy who made my heart skip a beat, who I wanted to protect. Who I wanted to be mine one day. What did it say about me if I were to just stand there and do nothing while Assef laid into him? I, who knew more than anyone, who so often watched with gleeful abandon, the cruelty, the damage that my beloved could do, enraged as he was? If there was one thing that Assef loathed more than the Hazara race it was Hazara sympathisers. Was I really going to let this happen to Amir? Would I not step in, not say a word in his defence?

 _Maybe this is what he needs, though_ , said a voice in the back of my mind. _Maybe he needs to feel this pain, to understand what he's been doing wrong. Think about it, Saria. If Assef hurts him, then he will learn from it, will he not? He will feel the pain and see the bruises for days, perhaps weeks, to come and learn from his mistakes. He'll think twice before treating Hassan as a companion again, right? Why should my kindness towards Amir let him get away with this disgusting behaviour? If a beating from Assef is what it takes to educate him, then so be it._

Yet... just before Assef could deliver that punishment to Amir, something happened that made everyone freeze up. Hassan bent down, picking up a rock. He placed the rock into his slingshot - which I hardly even noticed he had with him - pulling back the elastic band, holding it taut. He angled the slingshot directly at Assef's face. Amir whipped around, staggering back with his hands raised.

"Please leave us alone, Agha," Hassan said. He used the formal term-of-address, sir or master, to refer to Assef, and I would have been happy that he was receiving the deference he so richly deserved, were it not for the fact that, you know, Hassan had a fucking slingshot aimed at my brother's face.

I wanted to knock his teeth down his throat, but Assef spoke up before I got the chance to move. "Put it down, you motherless Hazara." And I thought he would. Hassan may not have been educated, he may have been an illiterate fool, but even a Hazara would understand that threatening someone who could beat seven shades of crap out of you was a bad idea.

Hassan's only reaction was to tighten his grip on the slingshot. He lifted it, angled right where my brother's eye was. "Leave us be, Agha."

Assef scoffed. "Maybe, you didn't notice," he said mockingly, "but there are four of us, and two of you." He didn't look at me, clearly not wanting to take the risk of taking his focus off of Hassan, which was entirely understandable.

"You are right, Agha." Hassan took a step forward. Just a step, but it was enough to make Assef hesitate. Hassan, clearly noticing this, gestured with the slingshot. "But perhaps you didn't notice that I'm the one holding the slingshot." As if we couldn't already fucking see that. "If you make a move, they'll have to change your nickname from Assef 'the Ear Eater' to 'One Eyed Assef' because I have this rock pointed at your left eye."

My ears were ringing. I felt as though I'd been hit by a speeding train. The blood rushed to my head, and I gasped, a visceral, painful reaction as though Hassan had struck me with that damn rock. Every other feeling, any other emotion that I had felt in that moment disappeared - falling away to the ether, to be replaced with naught but the darkest form of rage.

This cunt threatened my brother. This worthless, disgusting, vile piece of shit - so grotesque that it seemed almost offensive to human excrement to compare him to such - had dared to insinuate that he was going to cause harm to my Assef. To lay his hands on my most precious brother, my other half. Who the fuck did Hassan think he was? How could he do this? Did he not understand his place in society? Did he not understand how blasphemous his actions were?

 _Do something, Amir!_ I thought, willing the boy, who had not moved an inch, to act. _Do something, for crying out loud! Are you going to stand there and let your servant threaten one of his betters like that? You coward! Come on, fucking punish Hassan! Hit him, rip him in two! Defend me, defend Assef! Come on! DO SOMETHING!_ But Amir did nothing. It was as if he couldn't move. That, coupled with Hassan's threats ringing in my ears, brought me to a level of rage that I had never known before.

A vicious, cruel snarl escaped my lips, followed by a guttural scream. "You SON OF A BITCH!" I roared, surging forward, my hands raised into fists. I would have knocked Hassan to the ground, and rammed that fucking slingshot down his throat, were it not for Kamal. Clearly sensing the trouble that would have erupted if I'd done so, he broke out of his trance and moved forward, throwing one arm over my waist. He pulled me back, whispering for me to calm down. But I would not go down without a fight. I struggled against Kamal, hitting him ineffectively with my tiny fists. "I'LL GUT YOU, HASSAN!" I screamed, spit flying from my lips. "DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU BASTARD?! I'LL FUCKING END YOU, I'LL-"

"Saria." Assef moved towards me, still never taking his eyes off Hassan for a second. He pulled Kamal's arm from off of me and drew me close, clutching my shaking body to him. His words were measured, slow, in German. "Calm, little sister. Calm." How ironic that he was asking this of me, when I could tell from the tremors in his own body that he was nothing of the sort. I struggled against him, but he kept a firm grip upon me. "We won't win this one, Sar, not this time." At this, I visibly deflated. He was right. We wouldn't win this round. Infuriated though I was, I could see now that attacking Hassan would end badly for me. For _us_.

Assef lowered his fist, letting it fall by his side. "You should know something about me, Hazara," he said, "I'm a very patient person. This doesn't end today, believe me." He looked, then, to Amir, who was gaping open-mouthed at us, his fearful eyes locked on me. Perhaps later, I would feel some guilt for so terrifying someone I cared for, but at this moment, I was too angry by his lack of reaction to feel any sort of compassion towards him. "This doesn't end for you either, Amir. Some day I'll make you face me one-on-one."

He moved back. Wali, Kamal and I did the same. "Your Hazara made a big mistake today, Amir." Those were the parting words we left them with as we turned and retreated down the road again. Assef kept looking over his shoulder as he ushered me away, as if unsure if the danger was truly gone. Eventually, when we were far enough away, he relinquished his grip on me and turned to his friends. "Wali, Kamal, go home," he said. "I'm... I'm not interested in spending any more time with either of you. Leave."

Kamal nodded. He glanced down at me, and then back to Assef. "Uh... alright, Assef. I... I guess we'll see you some other time then. Bye. Uh, and goodbye to you too, Saria." Both he and Assef looked at each other, for the longest moment, and Assef mouthed something to him that I didn't quite catch. Kamal's shoulders deflated, though, and he let out a breath that he'd obviously been holding in for some time. He smiled softly and then turned to leave.

But Wali hesitated, like the idiot he was. "Uh..."

"You heard me, Wali," Assef grit through his teeth, "I'm not in the mood to fucking repeat myself." Wali gulped, nodded once, and then he and Kamal walked away. Assef buried his face in his hands and groaned. His rage was so palpable, I could sense every atom of it as though it were my own. Because, in truth, it _was_ my own. Assef and I were so in-sync that his feelings on this matter were mine. His rage was mine, his loathing was mine. His pain was mine.

I wrapped my arms around him, and he pulled me close, placing the back of his hand on my hair. "Let's just... let's just go home, _Liebchen_ ," he whispered, clearly trying to keep himself from entirely losing his shit. "I just... we can spend the day in my room, away from Mahmood and Tanya. Fuck. Let's just go." I just nodded, knowing it wouldn't be a good idea to argue with him now. We both needed to clear our minds from the turbulence of this day's events.

But I knew that today would stick with me forever. I knew that I had committed the image of Hassan threatening my brother with that slingshot to memory, and that there would be no justice until _I_ delivered it. What Hassan did was unforgivable, and deserved punishment crueller than any I had devised before. And I swore, then and there, that he would be punished. He would know the true meaning of pain. I would defend my Assef, the other half of my soul, as he always defended me.

Hassan's blood would one day line the streets of Kabul, a red warning to those who dared to cross the Ahmed siblings. He would regret his actions this day. Mark my words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. In the next one, it's Saria's twelfth birthday, but her parents' reaction causes tension to rise even more within the already unstable Ahmed family, leading to Saria committing yet another act of violence... Look for this coming up as soon as possible, and apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out. Best wishes!

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue done! Thank you to everyone who has read thus far. I hope that you've enjoyed it. The story proper will start in the next chapter. Thank you again!


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